FRED  M.    1>E>VIT'I 

AVK. 


' 


A    STORY    OR    TWO 


FROM 


jSDlu  ^irtcl    Cotmu 


BY   ROBERT   LOWELL, 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  NEW  PRIEST  IN  CONCEPTION  BAY,"    "ANTONY 
BRADE,"    "  POEMS,"   ETC. 


Poeta,  cum  primum  animum  ad  scribendum  appulit, 
Id  sibi  negoti  credidit  solum  dari, 
Populo  ut  placerent  quas  fecisset  fabulas." 

Ter.  A  nd.  Prol.  1-3. 

Soo  sullen  wy  sien  wat  van  sijne  droomen  worden  sal." 

>     >          Verhaal  van  Josephs  Droomen. 


BOSTON: 
ROBERTS      BROTHERS. 

1878. 


Copyright,  1878, 
BY  ROBERTS  BROTHERS. 


Cambridge : 
Press  of  John  Wilson  &>  Son. 


TO 

ONE   ALWAYS    LOVED   AND   HONORED, 

WHO    REMAINS   ALMOST   ALONE,    HERE,   OF    THE    ELDER    FRIENDS 

LOVED       AND       HONORED,      LONG       YEARS       AGONE, 

THE  WIFE   OF   PROFESSOR   ISAAC  JACKSON, 

&tya  fittk  Dock  is  offered 

SCHENECTADY,    Aug.    2O,    1878. 


413085 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

STORIES  FROM  A  DUTCH  TOWN 7 

ABRAM  VAN  ZANDT,  THE  MAN  IN  THE  PICTURE  11 

MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S   MARRIAGE  AND  WIDOW-  I 

HOOD 99 

MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE 234 


,  at  tfje  Jkalrer's 


From  out  the  deep,  chill  Night 
That  holdeth  Hill  and  Dale  and  late-thronged  Street, 

I  follow  to  this  Light, 
And,  with  my  kindly  Minstrel-Tongue,  these  Inmates 

greet. 

I  bring  you  Song  to  sing,  and  Tale  to  tell: 
Pray  you,  this  Door  undo,  and  use  me  well. 
Send  me  not  hence  to  Night  where  is  no  Kin  : 
This  Door  undo,  for  Love,  and  take  me  in  ! 


STORIES    FROM    A    DUTCH    TOWN. 


efJLol  Se,  davjj,d(rai 

ldtV    7TOT€ 

amcrrov. 

Pind.  P.  x.  48. 

TN  any  town  two  hundred  years  old,  even  in 
America,  if  the  town  has  stayed  comfortably 
small,  and  business  and  trade  and  the  stirring 
young  men  have  gone  by  it,  and  even  out  of  it, 
rather  than  into  it  and  over  it,  there  may  be 
found  by  any  good  eyes,  this  day,  old  ways 
handed  down  along  with  old  houses  and  tables 
and  chairs  and  bedsteads  and  iron-ware,  silver, 
china,  and  delft-ware,  ay,  and  along  with  old 
stories,  also. 

Of  this  sort  is  the  good  town  of  Westenvliet, 
(as  it  is  called  now),  which  had  a  name  half  as 
long  again  once,  it  is  said,  in  "  Westenvelde- 
vliet,"  of  which  the  easy-going  citizens,  after 
being  in  the  habit  of  dropping  several  syllables 
every  time  they  used  it,  at  length  left  two 


8  A   STORY   OR   TWO 

altogether  behind,  and  made  it  what  it  is.  As 
the  name  implies,  the  town  is  of  Dutch  origin, 
and  has  grown  only  as  a  tree  grows,  in  happy 
quiet;  a  little  larger,  from  year  to  year,  but 
keeping  much  its  old  shape  and  its  old  bent. 
Many  seeds  from  it,  blown  by  chance  winds  or 
carried  by  birds  of  passage,  have  taken  root 
elsewhere.  A  glimpse  of  these  stay-still  streets 
and  people  were  worth  a  journey  for  dwellers  in 
prosy,  hammering,  brick-chipping,  heels-over 
head  places. 

The  town,  a  half -hundred  years  ago,  had  a 
few  of  its  old  houses  left,  and  a  good  many  of 
its  old  things  and  old  ways.  Very  likely  many 
more  of  the  buildings  of  other  times  would  have 
been  standing,  but  that  the  owners  thought  too 
long,  and  were  too  deliberate,  about  putting 
their  hands  to  mending ;  and  so,  when  at  length 
they  had  made  up  their  minds  that  a  new  roof 
was  needed,  and  new  siding,  they  found  to 
their  slow  astonishment  that  rafters  and  beams 
and  sills  were  rotted.  By  that  time,  they  had 
got  down  into  another  generation ;  and  so,  if 
they  did  not  pull  the  whole  thing  down  and 
build  comfortably  up,  from  the  bottom,  what 
should  be  just  like  the  rest  of  the  world,  as  they 


FROM  FORT   STREET.  9 

saw  it,  they  at  least  put  on  an  outside  that 
should  hide  whatever  was  old-fashioned.  So  it 
was  that  of  all  things  there  came  some  frightful 
flat  roofs,  and  other  ill-shaped  house-tops,  and 
still  more  of  observatories,  which,  if  never  used 
for  seeing,  could  be  seen  a  good  way  off. 

Fifty  years  ago,  the  streets  were  mostly 
where  they  had  been  for  two  hundred  years 
before,  and  had  changed  only  in  that  slow  and 
steady  putting  up  and  slow  and  steady  renew 
ing  of  houses.  So,  in  some  places,  a  little 
decrepit  building  of  the  last  century,  or  the 
century  before,  was  squeezed  from  each  side  by 
a  big  neighbor  of  the  day,  like  a  battered,  little 
citizen  arm  in  arm  with  two  burly,  great  fel 
lows,  and  with  the  sharp^  covering  to  its  head 
reaching  up  to  their  shoulders.  Sometimes  an 
old  house  would  seem  half-crushed,  in  its  single, 
upright  story,  by  its  long,  hobbly,  moss-specked 
roof,  opened  by  dormer-windows,  unevenly  set 
as  a  flounder's  eyes.  Of  these  Fort  Street  had 
its  full  share,  fifty  years  ago  ;  and  of  that  time 
is  our  first  story. 

1* 


ABRAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

THE    MAN    IN    THE    PICTURE. 


Come  immagin  talor  cT  immensa  mole, 
Forman  nubi  nell'  aria  e  poco  dura. 

TASSO,  Ger.  Lib.,  C.  xvi.  S.  Ixix. 

FT  was  in  a  low  house,  with  a  long,  mouldy 
roof,  between  two  taller  neighbors,  that  old 
Abram  Van  Zandt,  a  queer-looking  little  man, 
with-  a  large  nose,  and  great  hands  and  feet, 
and  shoulders  up  to  his  ears,  lived  and  carried 
on  his  business,  together  with  his  big,  broad, 
comfortable-looking  wife,  Laney,  —  christened, 
doubtless,  Helena,  —  an  orphan  grand-daughter, 
and  an  underwitted  apprentice.  A  wooden 
awning  over  the  whole  sidewalk  in  front  of 
his  shop  prevented  one,  on  that  side  of  the 
street,  from  knowing  that  the  house  was  not  as 
high  as  the  highest ;  and  gave  to  children  and 
others  a  pleasant  chance  to  look  leisurely  on 
the  vegetables  outside  his  windows,  or  the  cakes 
and  loaves  within. 


12  ABRAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

On  a  June  morning,  that  bade  fair  to  become 
a  melting  hot  day  to  the  people  of  two  gen 
erations  back,  Mistress  Van  Zandt  had  been 
recommending  to  a  grave,  respectable-looking, 
neatly  dressed  gentleman  her  radishes  and 
young  onions,  while  her  husband,  in  another 
room,  with  his  back  turned,  seemed  so  busy 
with  washing  or  wiping  a  large  square  board, 
as  not  to  hear  any  thing  that  was  said. 

"What's  Brankin  about,  pray?"  asked  the 
customer,  a  little  curiously,  at  last,  having  made 
his  purchases.  "I  never  saw  him,  yet,  when 
he  wasn't  at  hand  to  say  that  his  lettuce  was 
the  best  that  ever  grew,  and  his  asparagus 
worth  its  weight  in  silver." 

The  wife  smiled,  looking  over  her  shoulder  at 
Van  Zaridt,  and  said  that  "  it  was  some  kind  of 
a  painting  he  'd  had  given  to  him,  or  otherwise 
willed  to  him,  by  Peter  Styvart,  when  he  died." 

The  gentleman  looked  at  the  busy  Van  Zandt 
for  a  moment,  and  was  moving  away  without 
asking  further  question,  when  he  was  stopped 
by  this  address  of  the  little  man  himself,  who 
turned  round  with  his  wet  cloth  in  one  hand 


THE   MAN   IN   THE  PICTUEE.  13 

and  the  board,  now  bright  with  the  water,  held 
up  by  the  other :  — 

"You're  right  there,  Doem'nie,  any  how. 
Now  them  sparrowgrass  can't  be  beat,  and 
there  's  no  use  talking.  I  don't  care  what  this 
here  Job  Fox  from  the  Vlei "  *  - 

At  this  name,  the  wife,  who  was  sitting 
comfortably,  shrugged  her  good-natured  shoul 
ders.  The  Dominie,  recalling  perhaps  from 
experience  the  great  longsomeness  of  the  baker 
and  huckster  when  fairly  started  upon  a  favorite 
subject,  or  valuing  time  more  highly  than  Van 
Zandt  showed  himself  inclined  to  value  it, 
broke  in,  — 

"  That  looks  like  a  handsome  bit  of  paint 
ing,  neighbor  Van  Zandt ;  and,  it  seems  to 
me,  you  are  handling  it  a  little  roughly,  mop 
ping  it  off  with  that  coarse  dish-towel." 

In  truth,  although  the  picture  had  been  grow 
ing  less  bright  as  the  short-lived  wetting  dried 
away,  there  were  in  it  some  striking  beauties 
of  cloud  and  leafage  and  water,  and  some  such 
rich  colors  of  dress,  that  it  was  only  well  and 

*  Flow-land. 


14  ABRAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

timely,  in  behalf  of  good  art,  for  one  who  could 
see .  to  interfere  with  a  caution  against  rough 
handling. 

"  What 's  the  odds  between  paint  on  one 
board  and  paint  on  another  board  ? "  asked 
Van  Zandt.  "  Washing  don't  hurt  house- 
paint.  But  suppose  you  just  take  it  and  look 
at  it  yourself,  Doem'nie."  He  handed  it  out. 
"  I  wish  you  would.  I  shouldn't  wonder  but 
you  could  find  out  why  'twas  give  to  me." 

The  wife  laughed  as  the  picture  was  put  into 
the  customer's  hands  with  these  words;  and 
the  speaker  looked  over  to  her  with  a  grim 
smile  upon  his  face.  "I  shouldn't  wonder  but 
he  could,"  she  said. 

"  Now,  to  speak  it  plain,  Doem'nie  Van 
Emeiie,  just  like  he  spoke  it  himself,  and  not 
meaning  harm,  he  said  he  gave  it  to  me  'be 
cause  there  was  a  little  ugly  tailor-devil  down 
in  the  corner,  —  that  I  was  just  him  over  again.' 
Now  there  's  just  the  words  he  said,  and  I  can't 
make  out  no  such  person  in  it." 

At  this  moment,  a  lad,  who  either  had  just 
come  or  had  kept  himself  out  of  sight,  sud- 


THE  MAN   IN  THE  PICTURE.  15 

denly  thrust  himself  forward,  and  with  a  grin 
stretched  his  arm  straight  to  the  picture  and  set 
his  finger  upon  one  spot  in  it  as  swiftly  and 
surely  as  a  bird  swoops  upon  a  fish. 

"  That 's  him ! "  he  said,  letting  his  arm  fall 
as  quickly  as  he  had  thrust  it  out. 

Abram  Van  Zandt  was  not  disposed  to  en 
courage  uninvited  suggestions  of  this  sort.  He 
put  forth  legitimate  authority. 

"  You !  Sam  Roedeke  !  speak  when  you  're 
spoken  to.  Go  and  take  that  fish-kag  —  mind 
you,  that  fish-kag  —  and  file  *  that  fish-kag 
clean  out.  The  woman  '11  give  you  a  file,  or 
Patsy.  —  Now!" 

The  wife  set  off,  as  if  to  see  that  the  lad 
went  about  his  task,  but  lingered,  as  she  went, 
to  take  a  further  share  in  the  talk  about  the 
picture. 

c<  He  doesn't  think  he  's  quite  so  bad-looking 
as  what  that  makes  ^lim  out,"  she  said,  smil 
ing  a  little  roguishly. 

Mr.  Van  Emerle  smiled  too  ;  for  at  the  very 
spot  on  which  the  underwitted  lad  had  set  his 

*  Scrub,  or  scour,  with  a  cloth  ("  file  "). 


16  ABEAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

finger  was  clearly  to  be  seen  an  odd-looking  little 
Dutchman,  not  unlike  —  indeed  very  like  —  Van 
Zandt.  Now  that  the  baker  and  vegetable-seller 
had  resorted,  for  comfort  and  inspiration,  to  his 
pipe,  the  likeness  was  the  more  striking.  The 
dress  was  by  no  means  the  same  ;  for  the  painted 
man  wore  a  bright  red  jerkin  or  doublet  and 
brown  small-clothes  and  gray  stockings,  against 
the  modern  man's  dark  brown,  ill-fitting  coat 
and  trousers ;  but  there  was  the  same  great 
nose  with  the  same  small  eyes,  the  short  neck 
and  hunched  shoulders,  the  same  big  hands 
and  feet.  Add  now  to  Van  Zandt  the  mis 
shapen  old  hat,  which  he  was  scarcely  ever 
(if  ever)  without,  indoors  or  outdoors ;  and 
although  the  crown  in  the  picture  was  a  cut-off 
peak  (or  truncated  cone,  to  satisfy  men  of  nice 
speech)  and  the  living  man's  was  a  shortish 
cylinder,  and  although  the  Westenvliet  head 
gear  could  not  quite  match  in  its  rim  the 
broad  flaps  which  came  down  over  back  and 
shoulders  of  the  prototype  in  the  painting,  yet 
so  overcoming  was  the  likeness  in  general  out- 
landishness  and  ugliness  that  Dominie  Van 


THE  MAN  IN  THE   PICTURE.  17 

Emerle's  smile  became,  before  he  thought 
(which  was  only  a  moment),  a  laugh  of  sur 
prise. 

"  Grampa  isn't  there  at  all,"  said  a  pleasant 
young  voice,  as  a  slight,  pretty  girl  of  sixteen 
or  seventeen  bright  summers  and  merry  winters 
came  in  and  took  the  place  of  the  grandmother. 
"  It 's  all  nonsense,  isn't  it,  Mr.  Van  Emerle  ?  " 

The  people  of  Westenvliet  are  a  sympathizing 
folk,  and  always,  so  far  as  man's  memory  goes, 
have  been  most  ready,  almost  eager,  to  give 
their  own  time  to  their  neighbors ;  so,  already, 
beside  one  straw-hatted,  decent  citizen,  who, 
while  dabbling  with  his  hand  among  rhubarb- 
leaves  and  other  limp  foliage  on  one  of  the 
wooden  trays,  kept  his  eyes  and  ears  fastened 
on  the  painted  panel  and  the  talkers,  two  hard- 
listening,  eye-following  boys  were  drawing  near, 
and  a  neighbor  or  two  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  street  were  at  the  edge  of  the  sidewalk, 
ready  to  come  over  as  soon  as  the  occasion 
should  seem  to  make  it  necessary. 

Abram  Van  Zandt  was  alive  to  business, 
whatever  else  he  might  have  to  think  of;  so  he 


18  ABEAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

took  hold  of  his  part  of  the  world  and  gave  it  a 
jog  to  keep  it  going  as  it  ought  to  go. 

"  You,  boys !  Go  right  along  now  I  I  don't 
want  none  of  you  about  my  place.  Away 
with  you.  March  !  —  Patsy,  you  attend  to  that 
gentleman.  In  a  minute,  Mr.  Young  !  —  Now, 
Doem'nie,  if  you  ain't  too  busy,  please  to  walk 
inside.  I  '11  take  this  in  along  with  us.  I 
won't  give  you  the  trouble." 

So  saying,  he  took  the  panel,  and  led  the  way 
up  a  couple  of  steps  into  the  back  room  in 
which  he  had  been  first  seen,  and  shut  the  door 
upon  the  two.  Then,  laying  down  his  pipe  and 
half-sitting  on  the  low  window-sill,  he  spoke  ; 
his  look,  the  while,  being  grave  and  earnest. 

"  Now,  you  see,  Doem'nie  Van  Emerle,  I 
ain't  a-going  to  give  myself  no  komber  *  because 
o'  that  thing.  I  can't  afford  the  time  to  it,  and 
it  isn't  worth  my  while,  no  ways.  Don't  you  see 
it  isn't  ?  for  what 's  a  painting  like  that,  with 
two  or  three  little  mites  of  daubings,  like  dolls, 
onto  it  ?  It  don't  look  much  as  if  the  other  folks 
had  thought  a  great  deal  of  it,  any  how  ;  for 

*  Cumber,  trouble. 


THE  MAN  IN  THE   PICTURE.  19 

they  went  and  pasted  on  old  bills  and  such  like 
on  the  back."  And,  to  show  his  meaning,  he 
began  pulling  off  one  of  the  written  papers 
with  which  that  side  of  the  panel  was  pretty 
thickly  strewed. 

"  Have  a  care  !  have  a  care,  good  friend  !  " 
said  his  visitor,  eagerly  staying  his  hand.  "  I 
don't  think  those  writings  are  what  you  suppose, 
but  most  likely  certificates  to  the  picture." 

"  But,"  said  the  shopman,  "  what  would  they 
have  certificates  for  ?  I  don't  suppose  it  wasn't 
ever  taken  for  no  debt ;  for  who  'd  take  an  old 
board  like  that  ?  Most  generally,  the  frame  is 
good  for  something,  if  the  painting  's  no  good  ; 
but  the  frame  to  this  one  isn't  any  good. 
There  it  hangs ;  see  !  You  can  see  that  for 
yourself.  It 's  a  big  great  cumbering  thing,  and 
worm-eaten.  And  that  there  board  was  dirty  ! 
My  !  to  see  the  dirt  what  came  off  of  it !  " 

Little  as  Van  Zandt  was  making  of  his  piece 
of  property,  there  was  an  earnestness  about  his 
disparagement  of  it,  which,  taken  with  the  interest 
shown  in  it  by  the  rest  of  the  family,  may  well 
have  seemed  something  mysterious  and  unac 
countable* 


20  ABEAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

His  visitor  looked,  as  directed,  to  the  picture's 
frame  upon  the  wall,  and  saw  there  such  a  set 
ting  for  the  panel  as  might  delight  the  eyes  of 
a  man  who  knew  any  thing  of  such  things,  —  an 
old-fashioned  (not  showy  but)  heavily  gilt  in- 
and-out  moulding  lightly  overlaid  with  leaves, 
and  all  more  or  less  dimmed  with  age.  Then 
he  answered :  — 

"  Some  one  was  telling  me  that  you  hadn't 
been  very  well  since  the  warm  weather  set  in, 
neighbor  Van  Zandt."  And  he  looked  at  his 

O 

parishioner  with  kindly  interest. 

"  Pshaw,  now !  I  wonder  who  was  telling  any 
such  a  thing  about  me,"  said  the  baker.  "  They 
think  I  feel  bad  about  this  here  Job  Fox.  And 
what 's  Job  Fox  going  to  do  to  me  ?  He  can't 
take  away  my  business,  let  him  do  his  best ; 
and  "  — 

Van  Zandt  was  working  himself  up ;  but  his 
visitor  interrupted.  Without  taking  any  notice 
of  what  had  just  been  said,  or  referring  at  all  to 
the  figure  on  the  panel  (with  which  unflattering 
likeness  the  thought  of  Job  Fox  might,  in  some 
way,  and  for  some  reason  or  other,  be  associated), 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  PICTURE.  21 

he  yet  kept  himself  to  the  subject  of  the  picture. 
Taking  it  again  in  hand,  he  turned  to  the  back, 
and,  having  examined  it  for  a  moment,  said,  — 

"Why!  you  understand  old-country  speech, 
friend  ;  you  can  read  this." 

"  Read  it  you,  please,  Doem'nie,  if  it  wouldn't 
be  too  much  trouble.  I  haven't  got  my  specs," 
answered  the  other,  settling  himself  to  listen. 

Before  a  word  had  been  read,  he  turned  to 
the  open  window  behind  him,  and,  snuffing  up 
the  air,  which  came  in  loaded  with  a  sweet,  rich 
breath  of -the  early  summer,  said,  —  as  if  he  had 
forgotten  (or  forsaken)  the  panel,  — 

"  Only  smell  to  that  once  !  Now,  that 's  all 
that  child  Patsy — .  Why,  here  am  I  stopping 
up  this  window,  all  the  time,  and  never  thought ! 
But,  now,  she  makes  all  that.  See,  once,  how 
many  she  's  got  growing  just  there,  in  one  place, 
all  up  over  that  arbor :  honeysuckle,  and  wood 
bind,  and  a  new  kind  of  roses  that  Scotchman, 
Will  Thomson,  fetched  home,  —  him  that 's  been 
away  off  among  the  Indians.  Let 's  see,  where  's 
this  they  said  it  was  ?  I  never  can  remember  : 
but  some  place  amongst  the  Indians.  It 's  strange 


22  ABEAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

about  these  here  young  folks.  Now,  she  's  great 
with  her  books :  I  shouldn't  wonder  now,  one 
bit,  if  she  'd  got  all  the  blooms  and  the  flowers 
they  tell  about  in  the  books." 

When  it  had  come  to  this,  and  his  visitor  had 
expressed  a  very  kindly  admiration  of  Patsy's 
work,  and  delight  in  the  fragrance  of  the  air, 
there  seemed  no  further  need  of  going  back  to 
the  former  conversation ;  and  accordingly  Dom 
inie  Van  Emerle,  holding  the  picture  carefully, 
gave  it  the  best  light,  and  studied  it  in  such  a 
way  as  to  have  forgotten,  to  all  appearance,  the 
thought  of  other  things.  Van  Zandt,  however, 
soon  came  back  to  it. 

"  Now,  you  don't  see  him,  yourself !  "  he  said, 
in  a  tone  of  relief.  "  You  don't  see  that  man 
that  they  said  I  was  him  ?  "  And  his  look  was  a 
mixed  one,  of  hope  and  fear. 

"They  said  you  was  him,  did  they?"  asked 
Dominie  Van  Emerle,  condescending  to  his 
neighbor's  grammar,  and  laughing.  "  I  haven't 
heard  of  that  thing  happening  since  P3rthagoras 
was  Euphorbus  over  again ;  and  he  'd  died  six 
hundred  years  before." 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  PICTURE.  23 

As  he  said  this,  he  looked  over,  with  a  frank 
face  full  of  cheery  good-humor,  evidently  ex 
pecting  to  find  Van  Zandt  in  the  same  mood,  or 
to  put  him  in  it ;  but  Van  Zandt  was  not  in  the 
same  mood,  nor  near  it. 

"  You  don't  mean  that  ?  "  he  said  gravely,  — 
indeed,  very  gravely,  —  and  without  a  trace  of  a 
smile. 

"  It 's  what  a  good  many  people  said  that 
Pythagoras  said  ;  and  proved,  too,  in  one  way," 
answered  his  visitor,  still  laughing,  and  looking 
as  if  for  a  smile  from -the  owner  of  the  picture. 

Still  Van  Zandt  did  not  smile,  but  looked 
gravely  upon  the  panel,  and  upon  that  corner  of 
it  which  held  the  odd-looking  type  of  himself, 
and  then  turned  away,  without  saying  any  thing. 
The  other  was  quietly  enjoying  the  picture. 
Presently  the  owner  said  hastily,  as  if  to  get 
the  thing  out  of  his  way, — 

"  You  shall  have  it  home,  Doem'nie  !  ^here  ! 
Sam  Roedeke  shall  take  it,  when  he  carries  the 
vege'bles.  Then  you  can  look  at  it.  "Will  you 
have  the  frame  with  it,  to  hang  it  up  ?  " 

"  Not  so,"  said  the  Dominie,  "  not  so.     I  must 


24  ABEAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

teach  you  to  take  better  care  of  your  painting. 
You  mustn't  trust  it  with  Sam  Roedeke.  I  be 
lieve  you  've  got  a  treasure.  I  '11  take  it  in  my 
own  hands,  and  I  '11  be  answerable.  No  matter 
about  the  frame  for  me.  Take  care  of  it  till 
this  comes  back.  —  Now,  neighbor,"  he  said, 
lingering  before  taking  his  leave,  "  I  think  you 
want  a  change :  you  don't  look  altogether  right. 
The  summer  's  not  coming  in  well  for  you. 
Mightn't  it  be  good  for  you  to  go  out  to  the 
country,  and  help  Hank,  a  little  while,  on  the 
farm  ?  "  The  breath  from  blossoms  and  buds, 
borne  through  the  window,  seemed  to  second 
the  advice. 

But  Van  Zandt  was  not  a  migratory  man. 

"I  don't  ever  need  no  change,  Doem'nie," 
he  said.  "  Where  a  man  ought  to  be  is  just  right 
in  his  business :  '  de  vorke  in  im's  mussigheyd,' 
they  say,"  —  which  was  shocking  bad  Dutch 
(of  Westenvliet)  for  "  the  pig  to  his  mire,"  —  a 
little  joke,  doubtless. 

So  Dominie  Van  Emerle,  bearing  the  panel, 
passed  out  through  the  outer  shop,  exchanging 
the  breath  of  flower  and  blossom  for  the  smell 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  PICTURE.  25 

of  fresh  bread  and  cake,  and  the  hard  face  of 
the  moody  grandfather  for  the  easy-going  grand 
mother,  and  the  neat-handed  and  bright-eyed 
Patsy,  doing  up  a  parcel  or  two  for  customers, 
and  glancing  her  pleasant  looks  all  about  the 
place. 

Mrs.  Van  Zandt  was  sitting  in  a  dark  place 
behind  a  counter,  —  perhaps  as  cool  a  seat  as 
she  could  find ;  for  large  people,  and  people  in  a 
hurry,  showed  in  their  looks,  as  they  passed  the 
open  door,  that  the  weather  of  that  June  was 
very  trying.  At  the  entrance  of  her  respected 
customer,  she  rose,  and,  having  cast  a  look  at 
the  door  of  the  back  room,  walked  out  after 
him;  arranging,  as  she  passed,  the  snow-white 
linen  over  a  square  or  two  of  sugared  buns  or 
tea-cake  (for  flies  were  already  threading  the 
warm  air),  and  also  taking  the  parcel  which  had 
been  put  aside  for  the  Dominie. 

"  You  '11  look  to  the  store,  child,  for  a  little," 
she  said  to  Patsy,  who,  like  other  capable  people, 
accepted  the  charge  very  readily.  "  I  think  I  '11 
take  a  bit  of  greens  to  poor  Mrs.  Bogardus,  and 
I  won't  be  gone  a  minute,  hardly.  —  But,  Doem'- 

2 


26  ABHAM   VAN   ZANDT, 

nie ! "  she  called  out,  as  her  customer  was  get 
ting  away  from  the  door  with  his  burden,  "  we  'd 
best  send  Sam  Roedeke  with  the  board,  if  it 's 
to  go  :  it  '11  be  more  fitting." 

The  Dominie  turned,  and  answered  as  he  had 
answered  a  like  proposition  from  the  husband,  a 
moment  before  :  — 

"  Not  at  all,  my  good  Mistress  Van  Zandt ; 
not  at  all.  Sam  Roedeke  is  not  to  be  trusted 
with  such  a  thing  as  this.  This  is  worth  gold !  " 

The  statement  slackened  for  a  moment  Pat 
sy's  nimble  fingers,  and  brought  a  look  of  cu 
riosity  to  her  face:  the  grandmother  stood  in 
good-natured  astonishment,  if  not  alarm.  Re 
calling  straightway  her  purpose,  she  unfastened 
her  apron  and  threw  it  over  the  cap  whicB.  set 
off  her  honest,  broad  features,  explaining  that 
"  if  the  Dominie  would  let  her,  she  would  just 
pass  on  a  little  bit  with  him."  Then  she  walked, 
with  good,  heavy  steps,  beside  him,  out  from  the 
cooler  shadow  of  the  shop-awning  and  away 
from  the  customers  hovering  about  the  vege 
tables.  These  latter  of  course  looked  up  and 
made  their  salutations,  and  would  doubtless 


THE  MAN  IN  THE   PICTURE.  27 

have  entered  into  an  exchange  of  a  few  ques 
tions  and  answers,  touching  the  strange  board 
which  the  Dominie  was  carrying,  had  not  the 
back  side  of  it,  partly  covered  as  it  was  with 
scraps  of  written  and  much-smoked  or  much- 
soiled  paper,  been  outward,  and  so  mazed  them 
that  they  could  not  begin  to  say  a  word  until 
the  chance  was  gone  ;  and  so  they  were  turned 
upon  each  other,  from  whom  they  got  little 
satisfaction. 

The  street  was  full  of  golden  sunshine,  and 
fresh  greenness  of  leaves,  and  the  changeful  glad 
ness  of  children  trooping  to  school ;  but  'it  was 
hot,  and  except  two  black  people  talking  what 
passed  at  that  day  for  Dutch,  against  a  house- 
wall,  and  except  an  old  man  hobbling  with  a 
staff  and  carrying  a  tin  kettle,  there  were  no 
grown-up  folk,  as  far  as  the  corner. 

The  good  woman  looked  forward  and  around 
and  backward,  and  began  to  speak :  — 

"  He  's  not  exactly  right,  this  short  time  gone, 
—  I  can  see  that  myself,  —  not  like  what  he  al 
ways  was.  Not  ever  since  this  other  place,  of 
Fox's,  was  begun ;  but  I  suppose  it  '11  all  wear 


28  ABEAM   VAN  ZANDT, 

away,  most  likely.  Patsy  says  it  isn't  that,  at 
all ;  and  I  don't  know :  only  it  looks  like  it,  for 
he  's  always  bringing  up  Fox.  But  there 's 
room  enough,  I  suppose.  Patsy  says  the  Foxes 
people  are  very  honorable  ;  and  they  '11  not  try 
to  run  us  down ;  and  they  don't  bake  the  same 
things.  They  bake  this  here,  what  they  call 
'  Boston  brown  bread,'  and  such.  She  hears  it 
from  some  of  them,  I  think ;  there  's  this  young 
man,  Eben,  that 's  going  round  —  perhaps  she 
hears  it  from  him  :  I  don't  know.  —  Now  about 
this  picture  is  the  strangest."  And  she  looked, 
not  exactly  frightened,  but  in  a  state  of  kindly 
bewilderment.  "  He  got  a  notion  it  was  given 
to  him  to  put  a  blight  on  him.  He  says  Styvart 
said,  when  he  was  dying,  that  Van  Zandt  was 
just  that  little  Dutchman  over  again,  and  Van 
Zandt  would  hang  himself  just  as  "  — 

Mrs.  Van  Zandt  —  being  a  careful  and  proper 
woman  —  was  not  so  carried  away  by  her  own 
speech  as  not  to  be  aware  that  the  slender  stream 
6f  humanity  which  flowed,  as  a  mill-race  flows, 
with  varying  fulness,  through  Fort  Street,  was 
just  beginning  for  the  time  to  run  fuller; 


THE  MAN   IN  THE  PICTURE.  29 

and  she  stopped  speaking  just  as  three  or  four 
people,  not  yet  quite  near  enough  to  hear  what 
she  was  saying,  were  already  searching  sharply 
with  their  eyes  herself,  and  the  strange  board, 
and  Dominie  Van  Emerle,  who  was  bearing  the 
strange  board. 

Without  yet  giving  heed  to  them,  Mr.  Van 
Emerle  laughed  heartily  at  what  he  heard,  look 
ing  the  while  at  the  funny  figure  which  was 
said  to  have  enjoyed  an  intermittent  life,  inter 
rupted  by  several  centuries  occupied  by  other 
people.  The  Dominie  recovered  himself,  how 
ever,  in  time  to  give  them  a  kindly,  open  greeting, 
as  they  passed.  The  laugh  seemed  to  do  nearly 
as  much  good  to  the  listener  as  to  the  laugher; 
for  whatever  anxiety  was  in  her  face  went  out. 

At  his  own  door,  Mr.  Van  Emerle  apologized 
for  not  taking  the  vegetables  from  his  compan 
ion  ;  but  explained  that  he  would  not  carry  the 
picture  with  one  hand,  for  fear  of  harm  to  it,  — 
an  explanation  which  she  received  with  an  in 
dulgent  smile,  as  if  implying  that  there  were 
strange  fancies  in  the  world,  even  in  the  best  of 
people,  and  that  we  must  sometimes  humor  them. 


30  ABRAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

By  the  time  the  door  was  opened,  she  seemed  in 
a  comfortable  state  of  mind,  and  had  nothing 
left  of  the  anxious  look  which  she  had  brought 
away  from  home  ;  but  —  whether  habit,  or  duty 
to  husband  or  shop,  or  anxiety  for  the  sick  Mrs. 
Bogardus  hindered  —  she  asked  to  be  excused 
"just  for  then,"  when  the  Dominie  invited  her 
in  "  to  answer  a  few  questions." 

"  Then,  good  Mistress  Van  Zandt,"  said  he, 
"  pray  tell  me,  here,  how  is  it  that  we  only  hear 
of  all  this  just  now  ?  Poor  Peter  Styvart  died 
—  what  was  left  of  him  — long  ago,  and  how 
does  this  just  come  out  now  ?  " 

The  question  bewildered  a  little  the  good- 
natured  matron  ;  but  she  evidently  did  her  best 
in  answering :  — 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  'm  good  for  knowing  it 
all  out ;  but  it 's  someways  about  his  will,  I 
think.  This  was  one  of  those  things  he  brought 
home  from  the  old  country,  you  understand 
(that 's  Styvart),  and  it  was  never  unpacked 
till  just  now,  here ;  only  this  while  back.  He 
knows  better  —  or  Patsy.  Patsy  can  tell.  Patsy 
knows  all  her  grandfather  and  me  knows,  and  I 
shouldn't  wonder  but  more  too." 


THE   MAN   IN   THE   PICTURE.  31 

This  she  said  with  a  laugh,  as  if  at  the  way  in 
which  these  fresh-lighted  generations  come  up. 

Mrs.  Van  Zandt  had  gone  down  two  of  the 
three  steps  of  the  "  stoep,"  when  she  came  up 
again  (very  red,  good  soul)  to  leave  a  nosegay 
which  she  had  brought  for  Miss  Angelica,  and 
had  forgotten.  She  secured,  also,  a  promise  that 
the  pastor  would  come  and  see  her  husband : 
"Perhaps  there  wouldn't  be  any  thing;  and, 
anyways" —  Then  she  curtsied,  and  departed. 

Now  the  Dominie  was  in  his  own  house  ;  and, 
when  the  well-turbaned  young  black  girl  had 
taken  away  the  parcel  (after  a  good  look  out  of 
the  door,  for  her  own  private  benefit),  he  was 
alone  with  his  daughter,  —  a  light-complexioned 
lady,  of  full  and  friendly  face,  and  with  a  good 
head  of  light-brown  hair.  As  the  Dominie  set 
the  picture  in  what  light  he  could  find,  she  went 
to  it  eagerly,  and,  running  over  it  with  her  eyes, 
fastened  presently  on  the  same  part  in  which 
Sam  Roedeke  had  set  his  unerring  finger.  An 
expression  of  surprise  seemed  to  go  over  her 
whole  person.  "  This  man,  fishing !  "  she  said  : 
"  well !  well !  " 


32  ABEAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

Miss  Angelica  knew  a  great  deal  more  about 
Peter  Styvart  and  his  bequest  than  her  father, 
and  wondered  that  he  had  never  heard  it  all. 
"  Peter  Styvart,"  she  told  him,  "  had  wasted  a 
great  deal  of  money  "  — 

But  her  father  was  inclined  to  a  shorter  road : 

"  Oh,  yes,  my  dear,  you  needn't  begin  quite 
so  far  back  as  that,  any  more  than  the  first 
question  in  the  catechism,  'What  is  thy  only 
comfort  ? '  " 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  the  daughter,  patiently  be 
ginning  at  another  point,  "  you  knew  all  about 
his  owing  Van  Zandt  the  ten  thousand  dollars?" 

"  Twelve  hundred,  child !  With  compound 
interest  you  might  make  it  fifteen  hundred,  if 
Van  Zandt  hadn't  come  into  his  land  again ; 
but  nobody  else  would  have  given  Abram  Van 
Zandt  a  thousand  for  that  crooked  bit  of  ground. 
Well,  tell  your  story  your  own  way ;  only  don't 
forget  that  what  I  want  to  know,  particularly, 
is  about  this  picture."  And,  making  his  light 
through  the  blinds  of  the  window,  he  sat  look 
ing  into  the  very  texture  of  the  wood  at  the 
back  of  the  panel,  and  listening  to  the  tale  of 
Peter  Styvart  and  Van  Zandt. 


THE  MAN   IN   THE   PICTURE.  66 

"  You  know  they  say  it  was  all  about  Anneke 
Thomson,"  said  Miss  Angelica,  going  on  with  her 
story ;  and,  from  this  most  suggestive  beginning, 
showing  at  large,  and  with  much  wisdom,  how 
Peter  Styvart  had  been  a  very  promising  young 
man ;  if  a  little  wild,  only  a  little  wild ;  how  he 
had  his  sixth  of  his  father's  three  fortunes, 
got  with  the  three  wives  ;  how  he  drove,  with 
his  two  cream-colored  horses  that  Myndert 
Schuyler  sold  him,  and  in.  his  -elegant  light 
wagon,  along  Hague  Street,  in  front  of  her 
house,  with  his  neck- tie  flying  out,  both  sides ; 
how  she  sat  at  the  window,  with  her  white 
handkerchief  in  her  hand,  and  never  waved  it, 
and  never  made  any  sign,  any  more  than  if  he 
hadn't  been  there. 

When  she  had  got  to  this  point,  the  young 
lady  paused.  If  ever  a  story-teller  had  had 
that  encouragement  which  they  all  want,  Miss 
Angelica  had  found  it,  in  the  absolute  silence  of 
her  hearer ;  who,  if  he  did  indeed  quietly  busy 
himself  with  searching  the  dark  back  of  the 
oaken  panel,  at  least  never  uttered  a  word. 
That  was  a  strong  picture,  of  the  youthful 

2* 


34  ABEAM  VAN   ZANDT, 

lover  in  the  fluttering  neck-bands  (heir  to  the 
sixth  part  of  three  fortunes),  driving  before  his 
light  wagon  the  cream-colored  steeds,  and  draw 
ing  from  the  unpitying  maiden,  in  her  window, 
neither  sign  nor  look.  That  was  a  strong  pic 
ture  (who  was  it,  of  old,  that  had  that  other 
pair  of  cream-colored  horses  ?  Not  Coroebus, 
of  Elis,  for  he  raced  on  foot).  Well,  it  was 
Peter  Styvart,  of  Westenvliet,  that  Miss  An 
gelica  was  painting ;  and  into  her  picture  she 
could  and  did  throw,  at  her  leisure,  the  sky  of 
spring  above  the  steep-sided  channel  of  the  street 
hovering,  mottled  with  light  clouds ;  the  soft 
green  of  the  leaves,  and  the  fearless  lightings 
and  short,  unscared  flights  of  the  tame  pigeons  ; 
but  beforehand,  or  instead  of  all  this,  she  preferred 
to  seek  an  answer  to  a  deep  question  in  casuistry : 
" don't  you  think,"  she  asked,  "that,  if  Anneke. 
had  shown  a  little  feeling,  she  might  have  saved 
Peter  Styvart  ?  Everybody  says  so." 

Her  father  was  busy,  as  we  have  seen,  but 
did  not  disregard  her  question:  he  looked  up 
slowly  and  gravely. 

"  My  dear  child,"  he  said,  but  smiling,  as  he 


THE   MAN   IN   THE   PICTURE.  35 

••V  _ 

looked  into  her  face,  which  was  full  of  the  story, 
"  I  'm  not  concerned  about  Anneke.  Very  likely 
she  did  the  best  thing  for  him,  by  sending  him 
into  business ;  but  I  want  to  know  how  Mr. 
Van  Zandt  gets  this  picture.  It 's  Van  Zandt 
I  'm  interested  in  now,  and  his  picture." 

So  Miss  Angelica,  obliged  as  she  was  to 
fold  up  close  and  flat,  before  this  cold  blast  of 
matter-of-fact,  the  many-hued  wings  of  romance, 
which  she  had  joyfully  spread,  began  again, 
where  Styvart  had  gone  saddened  into  busi 
ness  with  Hoegevelt  and  Company,  of  Albany. 
She  followed  him  through  his  leaving  Hoege 
velt  and  Company,  and  going  abroad,  and  being 
abroad,  and  coming  home,  "with  a  great  lot  of 
things,  which  he  had  bought  and  had  left  to 
him,"  and  to  his  dying  in  Westenvliet.  Her 
father,  as  if  determined  that  all  this  time  and 
talking  should  not  go  for  naught,  guided  her  a 
little  by  questions,  and  found  that  the  story 
accounted  for  the  -strange  legacy  and  for  the 
message  that  went  with  it  to  the  legatee. 

As  the  story  represented,  it  was  no  legacy  ; 
but  was  solemnly  sent  from  the  sick  man's  bed- 


36  ABKAM   VAN  ZANDT, 

side,  by  three  witnesses,  to  Abram  Van  Zandt, 
who  declined  to  receive  it,  and  "wanted  his 
own  honest  money,  " —  "  that  was  all  he  wanted." 
Then  Peter  Styvart  sent  it  back  (his  mes 
sengers  were  John  Wemple,  and  John  Williams, 
and  one  of  the  Valcknaers,  —  so  exact  and  me 
thodical  is  Fame  in  keeping  her  records,  which 
must  encourage  us  all  to  think  that  she  will  not 
be  careless  about  us)  and  he  told  them  not  to 
let  that  little  Van  Zandt  stand  in  his  own  light, 
so  ;  they  were  to  make  him  take  it,  and  were  to 
take-  a  receipt  for  it ;  that  that  picture  was 
magical,  or  ghostly,  or  something,  and  Van 
Zandt  was  down  in  one  corner  of  it,  just  as  he 
looked  two  or  three  hundred  years  ago ;  that  if 
the  little  Dutchman  had  sense  enough  to  follow 
up  that  picture  in  the  right  way,  it  would  be 
the  making  of  him  ;  and,  if  not,  he  might  just 
hang  himself,  as  that  little  ugly  villain  in  the 
painting  did. 

This  marvellous  and  mysterious  tale  seemed 
to  gratify  very  much  the  father,  who  was  now 
unmistakably  listening  to  every  word  of  it,  and 
who  said  that  it  was  one  of  the  real  old  sort. 


THE   MAN   IN   THE   PICTURE.  37 

"  Ha !  ha !  "  he  cried,  at  last,  laughing,  "  is 
it  possible  that  our  little  neighbor  is  caught  in 
that  sort  of  net  ?  "  And  he  turned  the  panel  round 
and  looked  again  at  the  figure  in  the  corner, 
and  laughed  anew:  he  then  showed  it  to  his 
daughter. 

If  at  first  she  had  been  startled,  Miss  Angelica 
now  sat  gazing  in  wonder  and  perplexity ;  for,  as 
she  said,  she  could  nqt  see  how  two  men  could 
be  so  much  alike  ;  nor  was  she  relieved  from 
her  amazement  by  her  father's  explanation,  that 
the  story  did  not  make  this  to  be  two  men,  but 
one  man  in  different  centuries.  Finding,  then, 
that  the  story  and  the  picture  together  had 
thrown  a  little  glamour  over  his  daughter,  the 
Dominie  set  himself,  with  his  clear  speech  and 
gentle  laugh,  to  reassure  her.  He  went  over, 
for  her,  all  the  different  myths,  which  in  her 
honest  reading  had  fastened  themselves  more 
or  less  strongly  on  her  fancy ;  such  as  the 
Necromancer  Virgil,  The  Wandering  Jew, 
Frederic  Barbarossa,  Roderic,  and  the  then 
newly  told  Van  Winkle.  "  Now,"  said  he,  at 
last,  when*  it  might  seem  that  he  had  given 


38  ABRAM  VAN   ZANDT, 

time  enough,  if  not  more  than  enough,  to  such 
unsubstantial  tissues,  "  I  've  found  just  what  I 
was  looking  for.  This  is  the  work  of  a  master ! 
one  of  the  Flemish  masters,  Angelica !  I  knew 
it  must  be  !  " 

Then,  being  a  kindly,  sympathetic  man,  who 
liked  to  share  with  others,  instead  of  keeping  to 
himself,  he  explained  that  this  picture,  which 
Styvart  had  brought  home  and  had  given  to 
Van  Zandt,  was  one  of  those  famous  landscapes, 
with  figures,  of  Van  der  Velde,  —  Adrian  van 
der  Velde,  —  two  hundred  years  old  or  so  ;  of 
which  the  wonder  was  that  Styvart  had  man 
aged  to  get  it.  It  might,  however,  he  thought, 
have  come  from  the  break-up  of  some  kinsman's 
house,  in  the  Netherlands.  The  panel  had  Van 
der  Velde's  signature,  beside  all  the  attestation 
on  the  back. 

Now  the  thing  to  be  done  was  to  show  its 
owner  the  worth  of  it,  and  get  him  away  from 
the  shadowy  influence  which  was  falling  from  it 
upon  him.  Here,  again,  came  in  the  question 
which,  as  he  now  reminded  himself,  had  not  yet 
been  answered  :  why  had  this  matter  of  the  pic- 


THE   MAN    IN   THE   PICTURE.  39 

ture  just  started  up,  although  Peter  Styvart 
had  been  dead  a  year  or  two,  and  the  present 
had  been  sent  to  his  neighbor  from  the  dying 
man's  bedside?  Miss  Angelica  could  see  that 
she  certainly  had  left  that  point  out  of  her 
story:  she  was  ready  to  offer  an  explanation. 
"Mr.  Van  Zandt,  after  unwillingly  taking  the 
picture,  of  the  hands  of  the  messengers,  had 
stubbornly  insisted  upon  sending  it  off  to  the 
executor  without  deigning  to  look  at  it ;  claim 
ing  money  instead.  At  last,  the  executor,  after 
having  all  along  told  him  that  he  would  get 
nothing  else,  sent  him  word  that  everybody  was 
laughing  at  that  portrait  of  him,  and  that  it 
should  be  sold  for  the  benefit  of  the  estate,  if  it 
was  not  sent  for  at  once." 

If  there  were  some  weak  points  in  the  story, 
as  it  now  stood,  it  looked  like  a  story  substantially 
true  ;  and  so  the  Dominie  accepted  it.  He  set 
the  capital  work  of  Adrian  van  der  Velde  upon 
his  mantel-shelf,  and  turned,  for  the  time,  to 
other  things.  Miss  Angelica,  also,  carried  her 
dutiful  head  and  heart  away  to  household  duties, 
beginning  with  the  shutting-out  of  the  day's 


40  ABBAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

heat  (and  daylight  with  it)  from  the  rooms  in 
which  they  had  been  sitting ;  first,  however,  as 
by  a  fascination,  taking  a  stand  and  gazing 
steadfastly  at  the  picture. 

That  afternoon,  as  Dominie  Van  Emerle  was 
just  about  going  out,  having  his  gloves  on  and 
his  hat  in  hand,  he  heard  an  active  knock  at  the 
front  door,  and,  opening  it  himself,  found  Patsy 
Chamberlain,  with  the  picture-frame,  such  as  we 
have  described  it,  and  bearing  on  its  aged  back 
its  share  of  labels,  —  some  of  them  cut  jaggedly 
through,  or  torn  away,  where  they  had  joined 
frame  and  panel  together  before  Van  Zandt 
had  sundered  them. 

Our  readers,  who  are  doubtless  ready  to  like 
this  lively  maiden,  need  not  fancy  that  with  her 
glancing  eye  and  deft  hand  she  had  also  every 
possible  grace  of  face  and  figure,  —  a  classical 
straightness  and  evenness,  roundness  and  lithe- 
ness,  gentleness  and  strength,  and  whatsoever 
words  can  tell  of  womanly  loveliness.  Ought 
we  reasonably  to  look  for  any  thing  so  fair  and 
perfect  in  a  tradesman's  shop,  and  among  the 
grandchildren  of  Abram  Van  Zandt  and  his 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  PICTUEE.  41 

wife  ?  It  would  be  scarcely  fair  to  expect  one 
such  in  all  the  town ;  although  whoever  knows 
it  knows  that  it  is  a  garden,  in  which  are 
growing  up  an  uncommon  multitude  of  comely 
maidens  for  the  best  youth  of  other  towns. 
What  Patsy  really  had  was  a  clear  and  very 
fine  complexion ;  honest  and  modest  —  and  yet 
a  little  roguish  —  blue  eyes  ;  a  nose  whose  point 
came  rather  sharply  upward  ;  a  good  large,  liv 
ing  mouth,  with  red  lips,  and  sound,  strong  teeth 
that  one  saw  when  she  talked  and  laughed  un 
restrained  by  the  dignity  or  gravity  of  the  com 
pany  ;  and  withal  a  neat  figure,  not  over  large. 
The  young  men  called  her  a  pretty  girl,  and  the 
women  commonly  agreed  with  them  :  it  is  hard 
to  say  why,  unless  she  really  was  so,  and  a 
pretty  good  girl,  besides. 

On  this  very  hot  day,  Patsy's  blood  had  come, 
like  other  people's,  as  near  as  it  could  get  to  the 
surface,  and  on  her  forehead  and  cheeks  was 
sweat,  like  other  people's  ;  but  the  sweat  was 
not  coarser  or  less  fair  than  dew  on  the  leaves 
or  the  grass,  or  the  slight  wetness  that  falters 
down  the  marble  brow  of  the  cliff  under  the 
shade  of  summer  woods. 


42  ABB  AM  VAN  ZANDT, 

But,  as  our  story  is  about  the  grandfather  (as 
any  one  can  see  by  turning  to  the  title),  we 
must  not  waste  a  great  deal  of  time  with  this 
orphan  grand-daughter.  The  pastor  took  the 
picture-frame ;  but  Patsy  followed  it  into  the 
darkened  parlor,  and  saw  it  joined  to  its  mate. 
Miss  Angelica,  coming  at  the  moment,  let  in  as 
much  as  she  thought  best  of  the  inquiring  day 
light,  and  the  maiden  explained  her  errand. 
"Grampa,"  she  said,  "didn't  like  the  sight  of 
this  frame,  and  Gramma  was  going  to  send  it  by 
Sam  Roedeke ;  but  she  (Patsy)  didn't  like  to 
trust  it  with  Sam  Roedeke,  and  so  brought  it 
herself."  She  was  invited  to  cool  herself,  and 
was  very  ready  to  give  an  account  of  the  worthy 
old  baker  of  Westenvliet,  under  the  influence  of 
his  strange  fancy. 

Though  he  did  not  talk  much,  Mr.  Van  Zandt 
was  worrying  a  good  deal.  Both  grandmother 
and  grand-daughter  had  overheard  him  saying, 
when  he  was  standing  against  a  wall,  with  his 
head  upon  his  breast  (and  the  maiden  showed 
as  well  as  her  shapely  head  and  comely  form 
could  represent  her  unshapely  grandfather  how 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  PICTUEE.  43 

he  had  been  standing),  the  words  uthat  ugly 
little  Dutchman  !  "  —  "  They  won't  hang  me,  not 
quite  so  fast  I  "  And  then  about  the  Foxes,  — 
he  always  came  back  to  them,  —  "  No  Foxes 
weren't  going  to  beat  him,  if  they  gnawed  their 
tails  off!  "  —  "  They  can't  beat  us,  either  !  "  was 
Patsy's  own  professional  comment  upon  the 
rival  bakers ;  and  she  made  it  with  plenty  of 
spirit,  with  a  very  confident,  if  not  a  mis 
chievous  smile,  and  with  brightened  eyes. 

How  much  knowledge  of  other  people's  hearts 
(or  her  own,  for  that  matter)  Miss  Angelica 
may  have  had,  who  can  tell  ?  The  reader,  wise 
from  the  study  of  all  the  stories  that  are  coming 
out,  feels  pretty  sure  that  he  knows  human 
nature  a  great  deal  better  than  any  young  lady 
who  has  had  nothing  more  than  a  good  substan 
tial  education  and  such  intercourse  with  society 
as  going  to  the  Lord's  house  on  Sundays  and 
prayer-days,  to  evening  parties  now  and  then, 
and  to  a  seldom  picnic  in  summer,  and  sleigh- 
ride  in  winter.  Now,  of  course,  it  may  have 
occurred  to  the  reader,  and  may  have  occurred 
to  Miss  Angelica,  —  for  human  nature,  male  and 


44  ABRAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

female,  interests  itself  in  such  things,  —  to  think 
whether,  in  the  existing  state  of  affairs  between 
the  houses,  the  feud  would  be  wisely  and  tem 
perately  carried  by  this  sprightly  Patsy  Cham 
berlain  and  that  brisk  young  fellow,  Eben,  the 
circulating  representative  of  the  Foxes.  What 
light  would  the  maiden's  resolute  assertion  of 
victorious  rivalry  throw  upon  that  question? 
If  the  head  of  the  old  house  were  going  into 
a  cloud,  would  the  easy-going  wife  and  this 
lively  girl  make  his  place  good?  The  gentle 
and  studious  pastor  may  well  be  supposed  to 
have  been  a  man  with  some  knowledge  of  the 
world;  and  he  could  not  fail  to  be  concerned 
about  Van  Zandt,  poor  man,  worrying  and  ex 
cited  at  the  opposition  to  his  pre-eminence  in  his 
business,  after  having  stood  at  the  moderately- 
elevated  head  of  it  for  twenty  years,  and  (more 
yet)  beset  by  a  creeping  fear  that  that  was  his 
own  likeness  which  a  large  part  of  the  town  had 
seen  in  the  corner  of  that  hateful  picture.  This 
last  fancy  was  strange  and  pitiful ;  but  evi 
dently  Abram  Van  Zandt's  mind  was  working 
with  it. 


THE  MAN   IN  THE   PICTURE.  45 

"  Well,  Patsy,"  said  the  pastor,  "  the  Foxes 
are  not  trying  to  hurt  your  '  place,'  are  they?" 
And  Patsy  answered  readily,  "  no,  they  were 
not :  only,  as  everybody  knew,  they  were  in 
the  same  business  ; "  but  the  next  question 
brought  an  unexpected  answer.  In  Westen- 
vliet,  it  was  everybody's  comfort  that  he  knew 
about  everybody  else,  at  least  up  to  the  day 
before,  and  perhaps  till  everybody  else  was 
laid  away  in  the  sleep  of  the  night  before  ;  and 
when  Patsy  informed  the  Dominie  and  his 
daughter  that  the  two  chief  bakeries  of  that 
neighborly  little  city  were  making  the  same 
kinds  of  bread  (for  the  "  old  establishment " 
had  itself  taken  up  the  furnishing  of  those 
strange  novelties,  "  Boston  Brown  Bread," 
u  Election  Buns,"  and  the  rest),  her  two  hearers 
were  astonished.  Here  was  a  stroke  of  enter 
prise,  indeed !  It  was  not  that  the  new  was 
pushing  competition  with  the  old,  but  the  old 
was  boldly  invading  the  special  province  of  the 
new,  and  driving  it  out  of  its  professed  neutral 
ity  into  an  open  contest.  Yet  it  was  only  yes 
terday  —  why,  it  was  only  that  morning !  —  that 


46  ABEAM   VAN  ZANDT, 

Mrs.  Van  Zandt  herself  had  said  that  their 
provinces  were  altogether  distinct,  and  did  not 
interfere  with  one  another !  The  Dominie 
looked  toward  the  picture,  dimly  showing 
itself  from  the  dusk  of  his  mantel-shelf,  and 
said,  smiling  sadly,  "Well,  really,  for  a  man 
of  six  generations  ago,  he  's  showing  wondrous 
activity  down  here  in  our  time !  "  The  race, 
however,  which  was  thus  begun  (like  a  race  be 
tween  two  four-horse  coaches  of  that  day,  before 
iron  rails  were  laid  to  keep  wheels  to  their  own 
tracks),  could  hardly  be  witnessed  without  a 
breathless  foreboding  of  disaster  to  one  or  both  of 
the  headlong  competitors.  But  Patsy,  floating 
on  the  swelling  tide  of  rivalry,  seemed  as  fearless 
of  results  as  a  nautilus  riding,  with  its  slight,  fair 
sail,  the  summer  sea.  She  asked,  to  be  sure, 
whether  that  picture  could  have  any  thing  to 
do  with  her  grandfather ;  and,  being  assured 
that  it  was  no  more  to  him  than  the  portrait  of 
Admiral  De  Ruy  ter  in  her  grandmother's  parlor, 
she  asked  nothing  further.  Her  ear,  while  she 
listened,  seemed  to  be  toward  the  world  outside, 
—  beyond  the  shaded  open  windows.  There 


THE  MAN   IN   THE   PICTUKE.  47 

was  the  song  of  such  birds  as  do  not  shun  the 
street,  the  glancing  of  butterflies  and  of  silken 
parasols  and  of  sun-bright  straw  hats  above 
young  faces ;  and  there,  not  far  away,  under  a 
wide  wooden  awning,  were  certain  rows  of  sum 
mer  growths  spread  out  glistening  with  often- 
sprinkled  showers,  or  lying  in  broad  pans,  from 
whose  depths  the  refreshing  element  showed 
through.  Within  these,  again,  was  the  shop, 
smelling  cleanly  and  wholesome,  and  tempting 
with  dainty  food  for  daily  meal,  and  choice  and 
costly  provision  for  wedding-feast.  Just  as  she 
rose  to  go,  it  happened  that,  for  song  of  street- 
warblers,  was  heard  the  rhythmic  jingling  of 
horse-bells,  such  as  in  New  England  country- 
towns  proclaim  the  baker.  In  an  instant  after 
this  melodious  sound  had  made  its  way  out  of 
the  clatter  of  the  cobble-stoned  street,  could  be 
seen  through  the  green  Dutch  blinds,  instead 
of  glancing  of  bird-pinion  or  butterfly-wing, 
the  bright  sunshiny  yellow  of  a  wagon,  which 
stopped  before  the  Dominie's  house.  Miss  An 
gelica  looked  significantly  to  her  father,  as  she 
kindly  attended  her  young  neighbor  to  the 


48  ABRAM  VAN   ZANDT, 

door.  "  Ah !  Dian  's  away  !  "  she  said,  as  the 
knocker  sounded.  Then  with  her  gentle  hand 
opening  the  upper  leaf,  without  the  lower,  she 
showed,  outside,  the  face  of  a  well-enough  look 
ing,  rather  dashing  young  fellow,  whose  eyes 
seemed  first  to  see  the  bright  eyes  and  red 
cheeks  of  his  rival,  —  Abram  Van  Zandt's  grand 
daughter,  not  one  whit  less  red  than  when  she 
came  in  out  of  the  hot  day,  —  nay,  redder 
almost,  —  although  no  longer  wet  with  the  fair 
moisture  which  we  have  compared  to  dew  of 
morning. 

The  young  tradesman  was  modest  (  this  was 
two  generations  since),  and  he  blushed,  taking 
off  his  hat,  while  Miss  Angelica,  with  Patsy 
Chamberlain  smiling  prettily  beside  her,  opened 
the  lower  half  of  the  good  old  Dutch  door.  He 
stood  to  tell  his  business  (which  was,  of  course, 
to  recommend  his  wares),  and  instead  of  crowd 
ing  by  him,  to  make  her  way  to  the  street, 
as  perhaps  some  maidens  of  to-day  might  do, 
Patsy  stood  modestly  (and  nervously,  too)  just 
within  the  threshold,  while  he  told  it.  The 
maiden,  with  a  smile  and  a  little  toss  of  the 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  PICTURE.  49 

head,  assured  Miss  Van  Emerle  that,  "  whatever 
any  one  wished,  they  could  get  every  thing  at 
her  grandfather's : "  an  irregular  sentence ; 
but  there  are  instances  like  it  in  the  grammar, 
with  some  hard  Greek  name,  and  Patsy,  as  her 
grandfather  says,  is  a  fine  scholar.  And  what 
did  Mr.  Eben  Fox,  but,  with  all  the  gallantry 
of  an  old-time  knight,  grant  the  claims  of  the 
adversary,  whom  erelong,  again,  he  was  to  meet 
in  the  shock  of  fight  ? 

Miss  Angelica  was  one  of  the  natural  patrons 
of  art  in  Westenvliet.  Both  she  encouraged 
with  kindly  words,  and  bade  them  be  generous 
rivals.  Then,  while  they  both  departed,  and  she 
was  shutting  first  the  lower,  then  the  upper, 
leaves  of  the  door,  she  watched  the  young 
adversaries  going  down  the  steps,  not  silently, 
together.  It  was  a  moment  after  the  whole 
Dutch  door  was  shut  behind  them  before  the 
chariot  of  flame  was  heard  rattling  and  jingling 
away.  "  It 's  strange  how  they  met,  just  here ! " 
she  said,  returning  to  her  father.  "  Yes,"  said 
the  Dominie,  taking  to  his  Flemish  panel  again, 
"  one  can  never  see  where  the  second  little  bird 
3 


50  ABRAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

comes  from."  So  he  dismissed  the  young  peo 
ple,  and  settled  himself,  with  thoughtful  look, 
before  the  picture,  for  which  he  carefully  ar 
ranged  his  light.  Whether  he  saw  only  the 
picture,  or  whether  he  saw  through  it,  we  will 
not  undertake  to  say. 

Days,  one  by  one,  went  on ;  and,  while  the 
panel  stayed  at  Dominie  Van  Emeiie's,  an  inter 
est  and  discussion  grew  slowly  up  in  Westen- 
vliet.  The  neighbors  had  already  been  looking, 
with  a  lukewarm  curiosity,  toward  Mr.  Van 
Zandt,  and  his  business,  and  Styvart's  ill-omened 
legacy.  The  story  was  an  old  story,  until  this 
fresh  stir  made  by  the  Dominie's  taking  the  pic 
ture  home.  About  this  last  doing  the  public 
had  not  had  time  yet  to  settle  upon  any  well- 
judged  explanation.  Dominie  Van  Emerle,  as 
his  way  was,  asked  no  questions  of  his  neighbors. 
He  made  his  round  of  calls ;  looked  in,  for  a 
moment,  examining  vegetables,  and  had  a  little 
talk  with  big  Mrs.  Van  Zandt  behind  her  coun 
ter,  while  Patsy  Chamberlain,  bright,  and  a  little 
thoughtful,  was  keeping  the  whole  shop  alive 
with  her  brisk  hands  and  quick  motions  from 


THE  MAN  IN   THE   PICTURE.  51 

place  to  place.  The  wife  said  nothing  about 
her  husband,  and  was  apparently  not  very 
anxious. 

Now  had  begun  such  a  time  as  never  had 
been  known  in  Westenvliet.  If  every  man  did 
not  gather  manna  and  quails  laid  freely  at  his 
front  door,  at  least  every  one  who  could  pay 
moderate  prices  could  have,  at  a  day's  notice, 
"  French  rolls,"  and  "  English  rolls,"  and  "  Eng 
lish  muffins,"  and  "  twists,"  and  all  sorts  of 
bread,  such  as  most  of  the  quiet  citizens  had 
never  thought  or  heard  of  before,  —  beside  tarts, 
and  turn-overs,  and  cream-cakes.  The  two  chief 
bakeries  had  severally  notified  the  public  (Col 
onel  Masker's  slight,  mischievous  hand,  it  was 
said,  being  seen  in  the  language  of  the  adver 
tisements)  that  "  no  reasonable  demand  should 
be  left  unsupplied ;  that  Westenvliet  should  be 
put  in  advance  of  the  great  cities  of  the  coun 
try."  Having'  advertised  in  this  way,  in  hand 
writing  feminine  and  masculine,  and  in  print, 
the  bakeries  were  in  full  blast  (of  a  quiet  sort) 
to  supply  the  demand  which  they  were  tempting 
the  citizens  to  get  up.  The  flaming  chariot  of 


52  ABRAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

the  Foxes,  driven  by  that  trig  and  well-man 
nered  young  man,  Eben,  flashed  in  the  sun  of 
the  summer  streets,  and  struck  voices  out  of 
their  stones ;  and  Sam  Roedeke,  sent  out,  well- 
attired  and  well-washed,  with  his  hand-wagon, 
while  the  dew  of  the  morning  yet  cooled  the 
planks  and  bricks  of  the  sidewalks,  found  the 
stoeps  and  doorways  of  the  old  immemorial 
customers  of  the  Van  Zandts,  and  answered, 
readily  enough,  the  chance  calls  which  came  to 
him  on  his  rounds.  If  the  wagon  of  the  Foxes 
glowed  with  paint  and  varnish  which  cast  back 
the  light  of  the  sun,  Sam  Roedeke  had,  for  the 
fine  days,  his  fresh,  half-stiffened  cloths,  witness 
ing  to  dainty  hands  and  tidy  forethought,  and, 
for  the  rainy  weather,  his  close-fitting  canvas- 
top,  which  shed  all  rain,  light  or  heavy. 

This  state  of  things  could  not  go  on  without 
manifold  speculation  and  discussion  of  neighbors. 
A  little  knot  of  blacks,  drawing  out  of  the 
thoroughfare,  might  be  overheard  uttering  orac 
ular  speech,  broken  very  much,  and  obstructed 
by  huge  bits  of  tart  or  pie  which  in  the  general 
largess  had  fallen  to  them,  but  seemingly  pretty 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  PICTURE.  53 

much  agreed  as  to  the  unwisdom  of  this  way  of 
going  on ;  and,  near  the  old  cannon  at  the  cor 
ner  of  Fort  and  Vanderwater  Streets,  some 
well-kept  old  bucks,  like  Colonel  Masker  and 
Major  Prout,  who  sometimes  only  remembered 
"the  war  of  Independence,"  and  sometimes 
thought  that  they  had  done  the  greater  part  of 
it,  went  into  the  state  of  things,  and  causes  and 
rights  and  wrongs ;  forecast  the  likely  outcome 
to  the  rival  bakers  and  the  town,  and  said  a 
great  deal  that  was  sharp  and  wise.  "  Their 
4  French  rolls,'  as  they  call  'em  ! "  said  the  Colonel, 
quizzically,  "I  wonder  what  Mooseer  [I  give 
it  to  you  in  the  real  French  style]  le  Count 
d'Etang  would  have  said  to  'em  :  I  don't  believe 
he  'd  have  found  much  French  in  'em!  " 

"  They  're  good,  though  !  "  said  Major  Prout. 
"  It 's  worth  while  to  have  a  Yankee  come  in, 
once  in  a  while,  like  these  Foxes,  to  give  us  a 
shake-up." 

"  But,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  commend  me  to 
little  Patsy  Chamberlain,  or  old  Van  Zandt 
himself,  for  that  matter,  to  match  any  Yankee. 
That  Patsy  's  a  paragon !  Do  you  know  what 


54:  ABRAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

a  scholar  she  is?  Williams  says  she  knows 
more  English  poetry  than  any  two  men  in  town. 
We  shall  have  to  brush  up,  Major.  But  poor 
old  Van  Zandt  's  crazy,  sir !  He  's  got  a  notion 
that  he  's  walked  out  of  that  picture  that  Sty- 
vart  sent  him.  He  says  they  shall  find  he  's  got 
life  in  him,  if  he  is  three  hundred  years  old. 
(Ha  !)  He  's  as  mad  as  a  bat,  sir !  " 

"  It  makes  good  times  for  trade,"  said  Cap 
tain  Barheydt,  in  the  pause  which  followed, 
rubbing  his  hands,  for  he  was  engaged  in  the 
carrying  and  forwarding  trade  on  the  canal. 

"  I  hope  it  isn't  quite  so  bad  as  that  with  our 
old  neighbor,"  said  the  Major.  "  It 's  my  opin 
ion  you  can't  make  a  Dutchman  crazy,  any  more 
than  you  can  a  Dutch  clock :  it  '11  always  go 
just  about  so." 

"  There  are  some  pretty  things  about  it,  Ma 
jor,  eh  ?  "  said  the  Colonel,  again.  "  They  say, 
you  know,  that  young  Fox  is  so  gallant  that  he 
won't  court  Van  Zandt's  old  customers  !  Ha  I 
ha  !  Now  isn't  that  pretty  ?  " 

"  Ah,"  said  the  outermost  of  the  group,  Tom 
Vedder,  "  you  tell  me  that  a  smart  fellow,  like 


THE  MAN  IN  THE   PICTUEE.  55 

Eben  Fox,  ain't  a-going  to  take  what  trade  he 
can  get  I  How  long  do  you  suppose  his  father 
would  stand  that,  —  old  Job  Fox,  that  's  as 
sharp  as  a  chisel  ?  " 

Captain  Barheydt  made  a  further  contribution 
to  the  general  fund  :  "  Aunt  Relie  Oothout  says 
she  was  eighty-five,  last  May,  and  she  's  seen  a 
good  many  things  ;  and  Abram  Van  Zandt  '11 
live  as  long  as  the  paint 's  fresh  on  that  picture, 
and  no  longer." 

This  started  Colonel  Masker.  "Old  Van 
Zandt  '11  have  to  take  to  rouging,"  he  said, 
laughing,  —  "  vicarious  rouging,  eh  ?  " 

So  went  the  talk  of  neighbors  ;  and  Dominie 
Van  Emerle,  as  he  was  encountered  in  the  street, 
was  asked  many  questions,  and  had  the  informa 
tion  and  the  speculations  of  many  leading  men 
and  women,  and  of  many  following  men  and 
women,  laid  all  out  before  him  ;  because,  as  some 
expressed  it,  he  was  everywheres,  and  knew 
every  thing,  and  there  must  be  something  behind 
all  this  rush  of  the  bakeries.  "  To  be  sure," 
they  said,  "  the  Dominie  was  not  a  man  to  let 
out  much ;  but,  then,  it  seemed  natural  to  talk 


56  ABEAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

to  him."  Old  Dr.  Campbell,  who  was  at  the 
head  of  two  (and  a  half  )  members  of  the  medi 
cal  profession,  was  stopped  at  corner  or  crossing, 
and  gave  to  such  representatives  of  the  public  as 
plied  him  with  questions,  and  furnished  him 
with  hints  and  suggestions,  so  much  informa 
tion  as*  this  :  "  Not  right,  ye  say  ?  Van  Zandt 
not  right  ?  Ah  !  I  '11  just  be  to  see  him,  then, 
in  a  little.  Oh  !  we  '11  bring  him  round  cleverly : 
never  do  you  fear  for  Van  Zandt."  Then,  with 
a  droll  look,  he  added  :  "  D  'ye  think  he  's  going 
to  die  right  off,  when  he  finds  he  's  got  the  gift 
of  not  dying  at  all,  but  turning  up  fresh  every 
century  or  so  ?  "  and,  making  a  feint  to  fling  to 
the  air  a  pinch  of  snuff,  tossed  it  up  his  nostrils, 
and  scuttled  aAvay. 

During  this  time, — like  a  mist  coming  up  from 
everywhere  and  nowhere,  and  filling  emptily 
every  place,  and  always  thin  and  uncertain  as 
soon  as  one  gets  near  it,  —  the  opinion  that  the 
baker  Van  Zandt  was  turning  out  a  strange 
man,  or  "  growing  wild,"  spread  through  the 
town.  Then,  wise  and  thoughtful  people  re 
membered  that  "he  always  was  strange.  He 


THE   MAN   IN  THE  PICTURE.  57 

was  an  honest,  good-natured  sort  of  a  boy,  but 
he  wasn't  like  other  boys."  And  any  one,  ap 
pealing  to  almost  any  one,  was  confirmed  in  his 
recollections  by  others.  "  Van  Zandt  hadn't 
been  like  other  boys,  when  you  came  to  think 
of  it."  Thomas  Vedder,  a  matter-of-fact  man 
(and  also  a  wizened-up  man,  with  sharp  eyes) 
whom  the  reader  has  heard  among  the  group 
at  the  gun-corner,  was  coming  out  of  Van 
Zandt's,  in  the  heat  of  an  afternoon,  with  his 
palm-leaf  hat  set  lightly  far  back  on  his  head, 
and  with  a  large  crumpled  handkerchief  in 
hand ;  assuring  the  wife,  as  he  came  through 
the  shop  without  stopping  or  turning  (though 
he  broke  and  munched  a  ginger-cake),  "  I  '11 
come  again.  It 's  that  cursed  picture  that 's 
doing  it !  there  's  no  doubt  of  it.  It  ought  to 
be  burned !  "  To  such  fellow-citizens  as  were 
about  the  vegetable  trays,  ready  for  information, 
he  said,  —  taking  for  granted  their  understand 
ing,  —  "  It  isn't  much,  yet ;  but,  if  they  don't 
look  out,  it  will  be."  Then,  seeing  the  pastor, 
he  hastened  to  join  him. 

"  You  ought  to  get  Van  Zandt  to  burn  that 

3* 


58  ABRAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

picture,"  he  said :  "  I'  ve  been  talking  to  him. 
He  's  afraid  to.  He  says  he  threatened  to  burn 
it,  when  Styvart  sent  it ;  and  Styvart  sent  a 
message  to  him,  that,  if  he  did,  he  'd  burn  his 
fingers,  he  could  tell  him.  He  's  just  as  much 
afraid  of  that  picture  as  if  it  was  the  devil 
himself !  Just  let  me  get  hold  of  it :  I  'd  burn 
it  fast  enough  !  " 

"  It  may  be  so,"  said  the  Dominie ;  "  but 
he  'd  better  burn  up  his  old  shop.  That 's  by  a 
great  painter  I  That 's  a  famous  painting  !  " 

"  Well,"  said  Vedder,  "  what 's  the  use  of  a 
famous  painting?  The  man  might  have  been 
about  better  business  !  Here  's  old  Van  Zandt 
going  mad  about  it,  next  thing !  " 

"  We  '11  try  and  keep  him  right,"  said  the 
Dominie,  cheerily;  and  added  wisely,  "The 
picture  shan't  stand  in  his  way,"  arid  with  these 
words,  and  a  bow,  left  Mr.  Vedder. 

Dominie  Van  Emerle  went  in  through  the 
baker's  shop.  Bread  and  cake  filled  the  air,  and 
tempted  the  palate  with  fresh  fragrance  :  but  a 
skilled  eye  could  see  that  good,  broad  Mrs.  Van 
Zandt,  who  was  fanning  herself  behind  the 


THE   MAN   IN   THE   PICTUKE.  59 

counter,  looked  uneasy ;  and  the  trig  little 
Patsy  Chamberlain,  who  turned  so  hastily  this 
way  or  that  way,  to  the  shelf  or  the  counter, 
that  it  was  not  easy  to  see  her  face,  looked  worn 
and  pinched,  —  really,  there  were  tears  in  her 
eyes  !  (Was  the  grandfather  so  much  worse  ? 
or  was  the  victory  over  the  rival  house  not  so 
easy  or  complete  ?)  He  said  a  pleasant  word,  as 
he  came  in,  and  then  asked  a  question  or  two 
of  the  grandmother,  who  shook  her  head,  and 
declared  :  "  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  him, 
at  all.  He  's  getting  strange  ways  and  strange 
thoughts.  He  's  had  me  take  that  red  curtain 
I  had  in  the  back  window,  and  make  it  up  into 
a  kind  of  a  jacket,  like  ;  and  then  he  'd  put  it  on, 
and  say, '  There,  now !  does  that  suit  you  pretty 
well  ?  '  Then  he  'd  ask  how  I  liked  a  husband 
three  thousand  "  — 

"  No,  Gramma  I  "  interrupted  Patsy,  smiling, 
almost  like  herself,  "  three  hundred  "  — 

"Yes,"  continued  the  old  lady,  "it  does 
not  make  much  difference,  I  suppose,  but  it 
was  4  three  hundred  years '  he  said.  Tom 
Vedder  —  I  think  he's  told  you  —  says  that 


60  ABEAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

picture  must  be  burnt.  Maybe,  you'd  best 
go  in  to  him,  if  (you  please.  Maybe  you  can 
make  something  out  of  him." 

"  Remember,"  said  the  pastor,  cheerily,  as  he 
went,  "  it  isn't  three  hundred  years  we  've  got 
to  handle  :  the  picture  was  painted  only  two  hun 
dred  years  ago."  The  wife  looked  as  if  she  took 
some  vague  comfort  from  this  assurance. 

The  inner  room,  in  which  Van  Zandt  himself 
was,  was  hot  and  close,  notwithstanding  that 
its  one  window  was  open  as  wide  as  it  could  be. 

The  man  looked  more  than  ever  like  his 
portrait  in  the  Flemish  picture,  —  browner  and 
smokier  than  ever,  —  but  said  that  "  he  felt  as 
good  as  ever  he  felt  in  his  life.  One  thing  he 
was  troubled  about,  and  that  was  the  woman : 
she  was  low-spirited,  some  ways  ! "  "  But,  law !  " 
he  said,  "  they  needn't  to  worry  about  me.  — 
Now  you  're  taking  notice  to  that  red  thingama- 
jig  on  the  chair,  yonder.  I  can't  make  it  look 
much  like  t'other  man  yet."  And  he  put  on  the 
garment  before  his  visitor.  Roughly  as  this 
was  made,  and  unfit  as  its  stuff  was  for  its  new 
use,  the  shape  and  color  were  so  like  those  of  the 


THE  MAN  IN  THE   PICTURE.  61 

doublet  on  the  panel  that  the  resemblance 
between  the  two  figures,  the  painted  and  the 
living,  was  now  not  funny,  not  striking,  but 
positively  startling.  The  Dominie  showed  no 
sign  of  wonder.  He  accepted  it  with  a  quiet 
smile,  and  said  :  "  Well,  neighbor,  you  're  play 
ing,  are  you  ?  Pretty  good  !  If  we  should  dress 
ourselves  up,  we  might  all  look  like  people  of 
the  old  time.  You  remember  good  old  Dominie 
Marselus,  with  his  cocked  hat,  and  shoe-buckles, 
and  big-flapped  coat  and  small  clothes  ?  If  I 
should  put  those  on,  and  walk  down  Hague 
Street,  the  old  people  would  say  that  Dominie 
Marselus  was  risen,  and  nearly  everybody  in 
town  would  believe  it." 

While  his  visitor  was  saying  this,  looking, 
meanwhile,  steadily  in  the  face  of  his  strangely 
attired  listener,  Van  Zandt  was  gazing  still 
more  fixedly  and  earnestly  into  the  eyes  of  the 
pastor.  "  I  can't  get  to  it,"  said  he,  "  if  I  do 
my  best.  I  can  come  pretty  nigh  to  it  ?  "  Here 
he  had  a  look  of  strong  inquiry. 

The  Dominie  spoke  with  a  cheery,  strong  voice : 
"  To  be  sure,  you  can't  make  yourself  into  another 


62  ABRAM   VAN  ZANDT, 

man.  Now,  they  always  said  that  I  was  so  like 
Dominie  Marselus,  though  I  hadn't  a  drop  of 
his  blood  anywhere,  they  'd  have  taken  me  for 
his  son  ;  but  yet,  if  anybody  should  look  closely, 
they'd  find  plenty  of  differences.  And,  then, 
it 's  only  outside :  anybody  'd  say  that  I  don't  talk 
like  him,  or  think  like  him,  or  preach  like  him." 

"  But  you  don't  look  so  much  like  him,"  said 
Van  Zandt,  gravely,  "  I  mind  the  Doem'nie 
very  well.  See  here,  once  !  Is  this  like  any 
body?  Ha!  ha!  it's  him,  is  it?  Job  Fox 
thinks  he's  got  hold  of  a  man  three  hundred 
years  old,  I  expect,  —  eh  ?  " 

By  this  time  his  manner  had  changed ;  not 
violently,  but  yet  greatly.  The  Dominie  was 
very  quiet  and  pleasant.  He  met  Van  Zandt 
on  his  own  ground.  "  I  don't  know,"  said  he, 
"  but  that  you  're  quite  right.  I  '11  borrow  that 
jacket,  to  compare  with  the  picture :  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  you  had  hit  it  exactly." 

"I  expect  you'll  find  I  'm  right,"  Van  Zandt 
answered,  with  much  confidence ;  as,  indeed,  he 
seemed  to  have,  in  this  new  direction,  a  new 
energy  and  zeal.  Possibly  two  hundred  years, 


THE   MAN   IN   THE   PICTURE.  63 

just  beginning  to  understand  themselves,  and 
work  together,  would  show  themselves  so,  in  a 
man.  "  Look  at  this,  once  !  "  he  said,  suddenly 
and  featly  drawing  up  his  stockings  outside  his 
trousers  till  they  came  to  his  knees.  "  Is  that 
it?"  This  finished  and  put  the  last  touch  to 
the  likeness  ;  for  here  were  the  gray  stockings 
and  the  brown  breeches  of  the  picture  :  the 
shoes  of  two  hundred  years  before  and  of  that 
day  were  not  very  unlike.  "  I  ought  to  have 
been  a  tailor,"  continued  the  baker,  laughing, 
"  the  same  as  t'  other  man  was,  —  he  was  a  tailor. 
Don't  you  see  ?  Look  at  this  coat,  now  !  I  laid 
this  all  out,  and  planned  it,  and  I  never  had  no 
learning  in  tailoring.  Don't  you  see  ?  It 's  in  me 
to.  See  how  quick  I  made  them  knee-breeches  ! 
See  ? "  and  he  smoothed  his  knees  with  his 
hands.  "  But  no  :  't  isn't  so,  Doem'nie  !  't  isn't 
so  !  I  was  only  joking,  —  do  you  see  ? —  I  was 
only  joking." 

Now  here  was  a  strange  change  going  on. 
It  is  wondrous  and  mysterious  to  see,  in  the 
uncovered  harpsichord  or  piano,  two  hammers 
start  up  at  the  far  ends,  and,  across  all  the  silent 


64  ABRAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

notes  between,  fling  out  each  a  being  of  sound, 
which  with  the  other  blends  and  becomes  one, 
at  once  inseparable.  But  this  most  wondrous 
mingling  of  the  painted  man  of  six  generations 
since  with  the  living  man,  the  neighbor,  before 
his  eyes  !  What  was  the  good  Dominie  to  do  ? 
That  unreal  thing  ought  not  to  be  allowed  to 
master  and  possess  this  man  ;  and  yet,  even  if.it 
be  nothing  but  a  fancy,  when  a  fancy  becomes 
fixed,  how  is  one  to  get  at  it  to  put  it  out  of  ex 
istence?  Crystals  of  alum  forming  under  the 
eye,  or  crystals  of  quartz,  can  be  reached  by  the 
hand :  how  is  the  fixing  of  fancy  —  a  thing  not 
to  be  seen,  heard,  or  felt  outside  of  one  unseen, 
impalpable  mind  —  to  be  dealt  with  ? 

"  Now,  Abram,"  said  the  Dominie,  "  we  're  too 
close  here.  I  want  a  good  talk  about  it.  Let 
us  go  into  the  off-dock  *  now,  and  be  comfort 
able."  Van  Zandt  assented,  and  of  himself 
proposed  to  take  off  his  scarlet  doublet,  "  for," 
as  he  said,  "  it  might  look  strange  ;  "  and  while 
he  was  following  out  a  second  thought,  of  re 
storing  his  stockings  to  that  subordinate  and 

*  A  sort  of  back  porch,  in  Dutch  houses,  partly  enclosed. 


THE  MAN  IN  THE   PICTUEE.  65 

retired  position  to  which,  if  not  the  laws  of 
nature,  at  least  the  laws  of  habit,  which  is  the 
second  nature,  assign  them,  his  visitor  promptly, 
but  without  snatching,  took  the  scarlet  doublet, 
repeating  that  he  would  compare  it  with  that  in 
the  picture,  and  gave  it,  through  the  door,  to 
Mrs.  Van  Zandt,  to  send  to  his  house,  assuring 
her  at  the  same  time,  in  a  voice  that  could  be 
better  heard  on  her  side  than  on  her  husband's, 
that  Sam  Roedeke  wouldn't  hurt  that ;  at  which 
she  nearly  smiled.  Patsy  looked,  without  a 
change  of  gravity,  upon  the  uncomely  thing. 

The  off-dock  at  the  Van  Zandts'  house  had 
not  the  bright  milk-pans  hanging  about  which 
gave  a  cool  and  cleanly  look  to  that  room  in 
many  of  the  neighbors'  houses  ;  but  it  was  open 
on  one  side  to  the  garden,  and  was  hung  with 
its  own  tidy  pots  and  pans  of  several  sorts,  wit 
nessing  to  long,  comfortable  housekeeping.  It 
was  thoroughly  shaded,  and  whatever  gentle 
breeze  came  in  brought  with  it  sweet  smells. 
The  damp  stones,  and  slow-flickering  shadows 
under  the  plum-trees  just  outside,  confirmed  the 
feeling  of  coolness.  Upon  Van  Zandt,  as  he 


66  ABEAM   VAN  ZANDT, 

invited  the  Dominie  to  a  seat  and  seated  himself 
on  one  of  the  benches,  the  pleasantness  of  this 
retreat  from  summer  seemed  to  take  effect  at 
once.  "  Feels  good  here,  Doem'nie,  don't  it  ? 
You  hear  that  old  well-wheel  screeking  ?  Now 
to  me  it 's  just  as  good  as  the  song  of  a  bird,  — 
every  bit  as  good.  There !  there 's  one  of 
Patsy's  birds, —hear  !  (it  don't  sing,  not  half  so 
sweet  as  Patsy  can  sing,  though).  There ! 
there 's  the  well  again !  Now  it  seems  you  can 
anigh  hear  the  cold  water  dripping  and  strag 
gling  down,  spattering  all  over  the  stones,  —  eh  ? 
Pretty  nigh,  now,  can't  you?" 

This  was  very  comfortable ;  and  the  visitor 
joyfully  set  his  sails  to  this  summer's  breeze, 
and  praised  the  place  and  the  fruits,  —  for 
peaches  grew  at  that  day  in  Westenvliet,  and 
pears,  and  apples,  and  plums,  and  grapes,  as 
they  do  still ;  and  he  praised  the  bakery,  and 
the  stand  for  fruit  and  vegetables.  "  Yes,  yes, 
neighbor  Brank,"  using  a  familiar  and  friendly 
diminutive,  "  you  do  better  to  handle  good  red 
cabbage  —  rood  kool,  you  know  —  out  of  the 
ground,  than  to  handle  a  tailor's  cabbage." 


THE  MAN   IN  THE  PICTURE.  67 

Van  Zandt  laughed.  How  different  he  was 
from  the  man  of  a  few  moments  ago  in  harlequin 
dress  !  "  It 's  better  making  loaves  and  krullers 
and  oley-koeks,  than  coats  and  collars  and  over 
coats."  Van  Zandt  laughed  again ;  but  this 
time  he  took  up  the  speaker. 

"  That 's  so,  Doem'nie,  I  make  no  doubt.  Only 
if  you  can't  help  it,  say,  what  then  ?  You  saw, 
yourself.  I  try  hard  to  keep  away  from  it; 
but  if  it 's  in  me  ?  That  man  was  a  tailor. 
His  name  was  Van  Zandt,  likely,  —  same  's  my 
self,  —  see  ?  There  it  is !  If  I  've  got  that 
man  in  me,  it 's  no  use  a-talkirig.  That 's 
what  set  up  this  here  Job  Fox  agen  me.  He  's 
a  baker.  Think  not  ?  Perhaps  it  isn't  so.  No  ! 
no  !  Any  way  there  's  nothing  better  than  for  a 
man  to  live  the  thing  out,  —  eh,  Doem'nie  ?  " 

The  visitor  welcomed  this  utterance,  which 
was  worthy  of  a  philosopher.  "  No,  indeed  !  " 
he  said  ;  "  and  you  can  make  up  your  mind  that 
you  can't  be  another  man." 

"  But,"  said  Van  Zandt,  breaking  in,  with  a 
strange  smile,  "  I  can  be  the  same  man,  if  it 's 
so.  You  said  yourself,  if  you  mind,  t'other 


68  ABEAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

time,  there  was  a  man  you  know'd  about  come 
out  again  six  bunder d  years  after.  Now  this  is 
only  three  hunderd."  As  he  said  this,  he  laid 
one  hand  quietly  on  the  other,  and  sat  smiling 
strangely. 

The  state  of  things,  as  it  showed  itself  now, 
to  a  wise  and  experienced  visitor,  must  have 
been  this :  Here  was  the  head  of  this  decent 
and  thriving  business,  a  decent  and  well-to-do 
man,  just  when  all  his  wits  were  wanted,  near 
going  mad ;  and,  if  he  went  mad,  every  thing 
must  come  down,  unless,  indeed,  little  Patsy 
(but  she  was  a  mere  bright  girl)  could  carry 
things  on.  The  wife  would  most  likely  be 
dazed  and  incapable  if  her  husband  should  be 
disabled. 

At  this  very  moment  came,  from  somewhere 
near  them,  a  young  voice,  which  immediately 
caught  Van  Zandt's  attention.  "  She  's  in  the 
bake-house !  "  he  whispered,  and  set  a  hard  old 
forefinger  upon  his  own  lips :  "  she  don't  think 
we  're  out  here."  It  was  a  pleasant  voice,  a 
little  plaintive ;  and  it  sang,  evidently  not 
changing  place, — 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  PICTURE.  69 

"  The  silky,  golden  butterfly 

That  flits  about  green  leaves, 
And  bears  its  load  of  sunshine  by, 
Whither  it  knows  not,  nor  knows  why : 
Why  not  as  good  as  reaper-train, 
That  sings  behind  the  creaking  wain 

High-piled  with  harvest-sheaves  1 " 

The  grandfather  looked  puzzled;  but  the 
change  in  his  face  was  a  good  one,  —  it  was  not 
as  if  his  mind  toiled  for  a  meaning.  "  There, 
now,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  can  make  out 
4  butterfly,'  —that 's  English;  but  all  the  rest  of 
it,  you  might  as  well  put  it  in  this  here  lingo  the 
Jews  talk,  for  all  me.  It 's  some  of  this  book 
English,  likely,  only  it  sounds  pretty.  I  can 
hear  that,  —  it 's  pretty.  She  's  got  such  a 
voice ! " 

Here,  perhaps,  was  an  opening  out  of  the 
labyrinth  :  he  was  not  all  taken  up  with  his 
wretched  possession  ;  his  grand-daughter  was  the 
same  to  him,  and  he  the  same  to  her,  as  ever. 
That  thing  might  be  there,  all  the  time,  in  his 
brain  ;  but  would  it  not  be  possible  to  draw  him 
away  from  it  ?  There  was  a  hush,  for  a  short 
while,  for  the  grandfather  was  listening. 


70  ABRAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

The  visitor's  lips  moved.  Van  Zandt  held 
up  a  hand,  for  Patsy  was  singing.  The  voice 
still  came  from  the  same  spot :  — 

"  Yon  bee  wins  all  too  fair  a  praise ; 

In  sooth  with  tireless  wing, 
He  toils  the  mead  through  summer  days, 
And  rich  store  in  his  chamber  lays  ; " 

And  now  she  'was  plainly  turning  away.  Then, 
from  a  little  further  off,  or  with  her  back  turned 
perhaps,  she  went  on  :  — 

"  But  let  one  lightly  cross  his  work, 
Swift  as  a  plunge  of  flashing  dirk 
He  feels  a  poisoned  sting." 

44 1  can't  tell  you  where  she  gets  those,"  said 
the  grandfather :  44  they  ain't  same  's  we  boys  and 
girls  used  to  sing  at  Benson's  singing-school. 
Every  Saturday  evening,  seven  o'clock,  regular, 
we  used  to  sing.  But  for  a  doem'nie's  wife,  now  ! 
Not  for  one  of  your  great  city  men,  I  don't  mean  ; 
but  for  one  of  these  smart-going  young  men,  — 
got  through  their  college,  and  got  a  license  from 
the  classis  or  the  synod ;  but  he  must  be  a  good 
smart  one  (don't  you  see  ?)  to  come  for  Patsy." 
And  then  he  ran  on  to  give  an  account  of  the 


THE  MAN  IN  THE   PICTURE.  71 

maiden's  accomplishments,  which  the  reader, 
who  already  knows  something  of  her,  will  be 
lieve  was  not  greatly  exaggerated.  The  old 
people,  he  said,  were  well  off,  —  thanks  be  to  the 
Lord  ;  Hank,  —  he  was  well  set  up  on  the  farm  ; 
another  son,  "  away  off  in  a  place  they  called 
Ohio,"  was  doing  well,  and  raising  a  host  of 
children ;  Laney,  that 's  Laney  the  daughter, 
was  well  off.  "I  could  give  up  this  bakery 
business :  maybe  you  '11  say  I  '11  have  to,  and 
take  to  tailoring,  'count  o'  that  picture,  —  eh, 
Doem'nie  ?  "  (he  laughed)  ;  "  but  then  that  there 
man  from  the  vlei,  they  'd  say  he  done  it. 
They  'd  say  he  beat  me.  But,  this  little  while 
back,  look  at  me  !  I  haven't  done  no  work. 
Idle !  It 's  the  women  carry  on  every  thing,  — 
with  that  young  Bronck  and  Sam  Roedeke. 
When  I  begin  again,  I  'm  a  tailor,  eh,  Doem'nie  ?  " 
he  said,  laughing.  "  If  that  man  's  me,  I  've  got 
to  be  him.  Styvart  was  right ;  they  all  know  it. 
You  see,  I  can't  get  rid  of  that  painting.  I 
wanted  to  break  it,  and  I  couldn't." 

"  Ha !  ha !    You  've  got  to !  "  said  Dominie  Van 
Einerle,  speaking  cheerily,  but  rising  to  take  his 


72  ABEAM   VAN  ZANDT, 

leave.  "  /  shouldn't,  if  I  were  in  your  place ; 
and  "  —  So,  leaving  a  convenient  and  compre 
hensive  particle  for  his  neighbor  to  add  what  he 
would,  he  shook  his  hand  heartily,  and  opened 
the  door  from  the  off-dock. 

• 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  "  possessed "  man, 
"  maybe  I  '11  get  through,  spite  of  t'other  fel 
low,  in  the  painting  I  There  's  something  of  a 
man  in  me  !  " 

The  shop  chanced  to  be  silent,  when  the 
Dominie  entered.  Mrs.  Van  Zandt  seemed  to 
govern  with  her  fan  the  flight  of  flies,  much  as 
an  Indian  juggler  the  flight  of  his  yellow-paper 
butterflies.  The  young  Patsy  was  standing 
against  the  other  counter,  with  her  crossed 
hands  hanging  down  in  front  of  her,  and  with 
her  eyes  fixed  (but  in  deep  thought)  on  the 
street  outside.  Her  pretty  color  was  not  in  its 
place  in  her  cheeks.  Was  all  this  worry  and 
overwork  wearing  so  fast  into  her*  tender  ]ife, 
after  all?  Where  was  the  triumphant  confi 
dence  of  a  few  days  agone?  Where  were  her 
little  toss  of  the  head,  and  harmless  roguery  of 
the  eye  ?.  With  his  care  for  the  old  townsman, 


THE  MAN   IN   THE   PICTURE.  73 

his  parishioner,  and  seeing  the  walls  of  this  here 
tofore  snug,  strong-grounded  business  shaken, 
could  the  pastor  take  thought  for  the  girl's 
young  health,  or  even  life,  that  might  go  down 
with  them  unwarned  ?  The  grandmother,  good 
soul,  would  never  think ;  and  as  for  the  grand 
father,  who  had  almost  doted  in  his  love,  he  was 
past  all  thoughtfulness  for  the  present. 

In  an  instant,  Patsy  was  busy  enough,  and 
with  no  show  of  weariness,  either.  Perhaps  even 
something  of  her  color  —  a  little  paler  —  had 
hurried  to  its  place.  The  Dominie  was  deep  in 
question  and  answer  with  the  grandmother. 
"  He  hadn't,"  she  said,  "  his  right  appetite ;  he 
had  taken  to  drinking  a  good  deal  of  coffee  — 
strong  coffee  —  different  times  in  a  day ;  he 
used  once  to  like  a  little  salt  fish  for  a  relish  to 
his  food ;  he  didn't  take  it  any  more ; "  and  so 
she  gave  an  account  of  her  husband's  ways,  — 
not  a  methodical  account,  but  pretty  full.  The 
Dominie  learned  that  Dr.  Campbell  had  been 
there  the  day  before.  "  Do  you  think,"  she 
asked,  after  all  (and  seemed  half-ashamed  and 
4 


74  ABRAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

half-afraid  to  ask),  "  tliere  's  any  thing  betwixt 
that  picture  and  him  ?  " 

"  No  more  than  that  General  Washington  on 
your  gingerbread,"  he  said. 

And  so  he  urged  the  wife  to  take  all  cheerily, 
to  laugh  and  not  to  cry,  and  to  mind  who-  had 
all  these  things  in  His  hand.  "  We  mustn't  let 
it  come  too  hardly  on  our  little  Patsy,  either," 
he  said ;  and,  certainly,  the  old  color  began  to 
come  up  again.  "  It  '11  all  come  out  well,  Patsy, 
depend  upon  it.  God  is  good."  By  this  time 
the  blood  had  more  than  its  wonted  share  of  her 
cheeks  and  throat. 

The  good  man  went  along  the  streets,  in  which 
now  dust  was  blowing,  and  a  shutter  or  so  slam 
ming,  and  Mr.  Bryan's  the  dry-goods  man's 
awning  flapping  furiously,  all  with  a  gust  of 
wind  which  was  making  hurried  preparation 
for  a  summer's  storm.  No  rain  had  fallen  by 
the  time  he  reached  Dr.  Campbell's  house  in 
Hague  Street,  —  a  low,  red  brick  house,  with 
white  wooden  shutters ;  and,  as  the  medical 
man  was  at  home,  it  mattered  little  to  him  that 
the  rain  came  drenching  down  very  soon  after. 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  PICTURE.  75 

Colonel  Masker  was  sitting  with  the  host  in 
the  room  into  which  Mr.  Van  Emerle  was  ush 
ered,  and  in  which  it  was  hard  to  distinguish 
any  thing,  for  the  thickness  of  the  weather. 
"  We  shall  fight  in  the  shade,  Dominie,  as  the 
old  Spartan  said,  —  eh,  Colonel  ? "  said  Dr. 
Campbell ;  and  after  the  Colonel  had  added  his 
little  witticism,  that  "  he  believed  that  Spartan 
went  to  the  Shades  before  the  fighting  was  over," 
the  man  of  the  martial  title  said  "  that  they  had 
just  been  talking  of  their  friend,  Van  Zandt." 

"Haven't  we  done  with  our  friend,  Van 
Zandt?"  the  medical  man  asked.  "  Here  's  the 
Colonel  been  probing  me  since  morning  with 
metaphysical  and  medical  and  surgical  specula 
tions  ;  and  he  '11  never  be  done  with  it,  you  see." 

"Why,  Mr.  Van  Emerle!"  said  Colonel 
Masker,  "  it 's  about  half  an  hour.  No  such 
thing  as  '  since  morning  ! '  I  say  we  're  all  in 
terested  in  Van  Zandt,  and  here 's  a  natural 
phenomenon.  I  tell  you  it  isn't  every  day  we 
get  hold  of  a  man  that  had  his  portrait  painted 
two  or  three  hundred  years  ago,  and  is  here 
to-day,  looking  not  a  week  older !  "  And  the 


76  ABRAM   VAN  ZANDT, 

Colonel  laughed  a  short  laugh,  as  a  man  laughs 
who  is  ready  to  maintain  some  paradox,  and 
wants  an  antagonist. 

"  It 's  a  wonderful  likeness,  certainly,"  said 
the  pastor. 

"  Mind  you,  now,  Colonel,"  said  the  medical 
man,  "  you  don't  get  any  contradiction  out  of 
me.  I  grant  you  it 's  the  man,  and  his  grand 
father,  too,  to  the  top  of  that,  if  ye  want." 

"Now,  Mr.  Van  Emerle,"  said  the  Colonel, 
turning  from  the  man  in  whom  there  was  no 
fight,  "  look  at  this  thing :  any  child  can  see  that 
that 's  a  perfect  likeness  of  our  friend  Abram,  — 
a  perfect  likeness.  So  much  for  the  outside  : 
not  all  outside  either,  for  the  expression  is  the 
same.  Now  for  the  inside :  Van  Zandt  feels  it 
in  him.  He  says  he  knows  he  's  that  man." 
The  noise  of  all  things  was  so  great  that  Colonel 
Masker  drew  up  toward  the  others,  raised  his 
voice,  and  used  his  hand.  "  Why,  he  's  going 
to  get  himself  a  .tailor's  goose,  and  set  up  in  that 
business,  because,  he  says,  the  painted  man  was 
a  tailor.  Why,  sir,  I  tell  you,  next  thing  we 
shall  have  him  with  a  rope  round  his  neck, 


THE  MAN  IN  THE   PICTURE.  77 

because,  as  he  says,  that  man  hung  himself!" 
And  again  the  speaker  laughed  a  short  laugh. 

"  God  forbid  !  "  said  the  pastor,  loudly  enough 
to  make  himself  heard,  although  a  sharp  clap 
of  thunder  followed  hard  upon  a  flash  of  flame 
which  gave  very  ghastly  effect  to  the  image 
which  the  words  had  raised  up. 

"Come!  come!"  said  Dr.  Campbell,  moving 
away  from  the  window,  "  do  ye  see  what  a  bob 
bery  ye  're  kicking  up,  man  ?  Were  ye  wanting 
to  speak  to  me,  Dominie  ?  " 

The  Colonel  sat  with  his  hand  lifted  and  lips 
ready  to  move.  The  Dominie's  polite  assurance 
that  he  could  wait,  set  the  argumentative  Colonel 
Masker  to  renewing  his  assault ;  he  asked  what 
constituted  a  man's  identity,  except  to  have  the 
same  body,  soul,  and  spirit ;  one  could  see  Van 
Zandt's  body,  to  the  smallest  particular,  in  that 
picture.  ("  Ah !  with  some  few  exceptions,  now," 
said  Dr.  Campbell :  "  is  there  any  thing  bare  of 
the  two  men  but  just  their  face  and  hands?") 
"  And,"  continued  the  Colonel,  entirely  disre 
garding  Dr.  Campbell,  "  if  his  body  is  the  same, 
to  the  smallest  particular,  and  if  the  man  is  con- 


78  ABEAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

scions  to  himself  (and  so  declares  without  any 
inducement)  that  he  is  that  same  man  inside, 
—  in  propria  persona, —  [Dr.  Campbell  touched 
the  Dominie's  arm]  now  I  ask  why  he  isn't  the 
same  man?  and  how  you  mean  to  make  him 
anybody  else  ?  I  ask  how  you  're  going  to  make 
him  anybody  else  ?  " 

The  noise  of  the  storm  had  now  come  down 
to  that  of  a  steady  down-pouring  of  rain,  and 
the  speaker  was  able  to  lower  his  voice,  and 
make  it  solemn  as  well  as  emphatic. 

44  Oh !  '  If  and  *  if  I  "  said  the  Doctor,  slight 
ingly.  "  I  say  '  if '  backwards  to  ye,  and  that 's 
ji !  This  is  what  ye  're  at,  just :  you  want  to 
make  sure  of  the  poor  fellow's  hanging  himself ! 
Come,  now,  you  're  a  classical  man  (I  heard  ye 
say  Latin  just  now),  I  '11  give  you  something. 
You  know  Job  Fox,  that  has  about  as  much  to 
do  with  this  case  as  Van  Zandt,  almost  ?  " 

"  I  know  who  he  is,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  And  where  he  comes  from  ? "  asked  the 
medical  man. 

"  From  the  land  of  steady  habits,  somewhere." 

"  Exactly,"  said  the  other,  "  land  of  wooden 
nutmegs ;  and  of  what  else  ?  " 


THE  MAN  IK  THE   PICTURE.  79 

The  Colonel  smiled,  and  said,  "  I  suppose 
4  notions.' ': 

"  Ah !  you  're  as  good  at  guessing  as  you  are 
at  reasoning.  Now,  see  here  !  you  think  the 
Yankees  invented  'notions'  and  wooden  nut 
megs  :  what  does  n-o-t-i-o-n  spell  ?  "  Dr.  Camp 
bell  asked. 

"  If  I  hear  the  letters  rightly,  they  used  to 
spell  'notion,'"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  Well,  now,  I  'm  not  much  of  a  reader,  but 
I  took  my  degrees  at  the  Academia  Jacobi  Sexti 
Regis,  in  EdmboroV  ("  I  hope  its  list  of  pro 
fessors  is  as  long  as  its  name,"  said  the  Colonel, 
smiling,  and  looking  to  tlue  Dominie.  The  Doc 
tor  smiled  also,  and  bowed).  "Now  that's  a 
Latin  word  I  gave  ye :  I  met  it  in  my  Pliny, 
and  it  means  '  wood-cucumber,'  if  that 's  any 
thing  to  wooden  nutmegs." 

"  But,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  that  doesn't  look 
like  a  Latin  word,  — '  n-o-t-i-o-n.'  " 

"  Yes,  but  it  is,  and  it  means  what  I  tell  ye  ; 
and  shows  that  the  Romans  invented  the  name 
and  the  thing  before  "  — 

"  But  "  —  began  the  Colonel. 


80  ABKAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

"  But  me  no  buts  !  Now,  before  ye  fault  my 
Latinity,  go  and  'seek  it.  See,  here 's  a  candle,  — 
no,  it 's  light  enough,  —  just  go  into  my  library 
overhead  (ye 're  not  afraid?)  and  look  in  my 
Forcellini,  —  my  great  lexicon." 

The  Colonel  went.  "  There  's  no  such  book 
there,  though  the  word 's  good :  '  quantity '  '11  not 
trouble  him, '  said  Dr.  Campbell,  under  his 
breath,  as  the  door  closed  ;  "  but  there  are  some 
prints  on  the  table,  and  Masker 's  a  man  of  taste. 
Now  ye  want  to  speak  about  poor  Van  Zandt : 
let 's  begin  ;  for  though  the  prints  are  there, 
they're  not  many."  So  now  began  a  hurried 
but  interested  and  considerate  consultation.  Dr. 
Campbell,  if  a  little  testy,  was  sensible  and  ex 
perienced.  The  information  about  Van  Zandt's 
habits  he  had  already  got  for  himself,  —  the 
taking  to  strong  coffee,  the  leaving  off  of  his 
fish,  and  all  else  about  his  diet  and  ways,  and 
he  received  whatever  the  Dominie  could  add. 
"Ye  say  he  '  would  give  up  the  bakery-business.' 
Well,  he  might.  The  old  fellow  's  rich,  man. 
He 's  got  a  pile  o'  money,  just :  heaps  upon 
heaps  !  How  would  he  help  it?  Never  spend- 


THE   MAN   IN   THE   PICTURE.  81 

ing,  and  always  saving.  Doesn't  he  own  all 
the  old  barracks  and  half  of  4  Rich  Man's  Rook 
ery  '  ?  Here  's  the  point,  d'  ye  see  ?  What  first 
touched  him  was  thinking  he  'd  lost  twelve  hun 
dred  dollars  by  the  man,  Styvart  (but  he  never 
lost  it ! )  ;  and  then  the  Foxes  pushing  him,  and 
then,  on  the  top  o'  that,  comes  this  picture  !  It 's 
no  wonder  it 's  setting  the  man  wild.  Put  you 
or  me  in  his  place  "  —  So  the  two  went  011 
together,  agreeing  perfectly,  the  Doctor  remark 
ing,  with  satisfaction,  that  "the  weather  was 
taking  up,  and  the  Colonel  would  have  good 
light  to  the  books." 

The  two  agreed  that  the  man  must  be  got 
away  —  absolutely,  but  not  violently  —  from  all 
that  worried  him :  to  Hank's  farm  would  be  a 
good  move. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  what  I  think  about 
it?"  the  pastor  asked.  "The  last-laid  im 
pression  I  would  take  off  first,  —  that 's  the 
picture,  —  and  I  think  I  see  my  way  to  it ;  then 
the  business  ;  then  the  twelve  hundred  dollars." 

"  Why,  man !  "  said  the  Doctor,  laughing, 
good-naturedly,  "  ye  '11  make  a  clean  sweep 

4* 


82  ABEAM   VAN  ZANDT, 

of  it ;  and  the  twelve  hundred  dollars,  too ! 
Whew !  who  's  to  raise  twelve  hundred  dollars 
for  Van  Zandt,  —  for  a  loss  that  he  never  lost, 
too,  don't  ye  see  ?  " 

"  I  think,"  said  his  friend,  "  we  '11  make  the 
thing  pay  for  itself." 

"  If  ye  '11  teach  me  how  to  make  what  I  lose 
pay  for  itself,  I  '11  be  the  best  parisher  ye  ever  had, 
Dominie  :  there  's  my  hand  of  it ! "  the  Doctor 
said  ;  "  but,  if  ye  get  him  the  money,  ye  must  get 
the  land  (for  a  hospital  now,  or  an  almshouse  ). 
Van  Zandt  was  always  honest,  in  his  way. 
Now,  I  know  ye,  ye  '11  not  think  hard  of  me,  if 
I  begin  with  physic,  where,  I  doubt,  ye  '11  begin 
with  prayer." 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  other  :  "  I  've  begun 
what  you  call  my  way ;  but  there  won't  be  any 
rivalry :  we  can  work  together,  as  we  have  be 
fore  now.  Witness  poor  Styvart !  " 

"  Ah !  we  did,  indeed,"  said  Dr.  Campbell ; 
"  and  it  wasn't  my  doing  did  for  him.  —  Well, 
I  '11  physic  our  friend  Abram  well,  ye  may  be 
sure  of  that.  Ye  see  it 's  gone  to  the  man's 
head,  and  I  '11  bring  it  down  to  his  belly ;  and 


THE   MAN   IN   THE   PICTUEE.  83 

you  shall  work  at  his  head  all  the  while.  And 
so  we  won't  let  them  Jiang  him  (we  can't  help 
the  drawing,  they  've  drawn  him  already,  —  ye 
see  the  joke  ?  )  ;  but  we  '11  '  quarter  '  him  be 
tween  us,  and  we  '11  set  him  on  his  legs." 
("  God  willing,"  said  the  pastor.)  "  And  the 
job 's  to  be  done  at  once.  As  you  say,  this 
thing  must  be  broken  up." 

They  both  agreed  that  the  grandmother,  with 
Patsy  Chamberlain,  could  go  on  perfectly  well, 
for  a  while,  with  the  business ;  but  then 
a  bright  young  thing  like  that  ought  not  to 
have  the  toil  and  anxiety  of  competition.  Mr. 
Van  Emerle  spoke  of  the  grandfather's  project 
of  marrying  her  to  a  young  pastor. 

"  He  told  ye  that,  did  he  ?  and  he  didn't  speak 
of  any  other  marrying  ?  The  shyness  of  tempo 
rary  madness !  —  d'  ye  see  ?  That 's  not  the  whole 
of  it !  and  pardon  me  now,  Dominie,  but  I 
think  she  could  do  better  than  wed  one  of  your 
cloth,  —  in  her  case,  that  is.  Well,  now,  for 
the  first  thing  (for  I  hear  the  Colonel  very 
active  overhead).  It 's  hard  making  them  take 
physic,  when  they  're  in  that  way  ;  but  I  've  got 


84  ABEAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

him,  in  that  coffee.  And  we  '11  give  him  a  great 
shaking-up.  I  '11  show  him  he  's  no  painted 
man.  The  wife  's  not  great  for  thinking ;  but, 
then,  she  's  good  for  holding  her  tongue  and 
minding  her  business  ,  (which  is  better),  and 
she  '11*  do  as  I  bid  her  ;  for  she  's  got  your  quality, 
—  faith :  she  believes  in  me,  Dominie.  Now 
I  'm  going  to  confess  to  you.  He  fell  down 
those  steps,  once,  that  lead  to  his  back  room, 
with  a  hemlock  board  over  his  shoulder.  The 
board  saved  him,  mostly ;  but  a  great  splinter 
of  it  went  in,  just  here,  behind,  and  (will  you 
forgive  me  now?)  I  made  them  think  it  was  a 
bit  of  the  spine  of  the  vertebra,  when  I  took  it 
out.  —  Ah  !  here  's  our  friend,  the  Colonel !  " 

Mr.  Van  Emerle,  having  finished  his  busi 
ness  and  laid  his  plan,  rose  to  go.  "  Pardon  me 
one  moment,  sir,"  said  the  Colonel ;  and  then, 
in  parenthesis,  explained  that  he  had  not  been 
able  to  find  the  book,  but  he  had  found  some 
prints,  —  very  fine  prints,  too. 

"  It  must  be  that  the  book  isn't  there,"  said 
Dr.  Campbell ;  "  but  ye  '11  find  the  word  as  I 
tell  ye." 


THE   MAN   IN    THE   PICTURE.  85 

Colonel  Masker  was  again  addressing  the 
Dominie.  "  Now  I  wanted  to  say  that  this  is  a 
wonderful  case,  whether  you  call  it  metempsy 
chosis  "  — 

Dr.  Campbell  struck  in :  '"  Or  palimpsychosis, 
or  parenthetipsychosis,  or  "  — 

"  Well,  what  you  please,"  continued  the 
Colonel,  —  u  a  most  interesting  case  :  why  not 
follow  it  up,  a  little  further  ?  " 

"  Why  not  work  out  the  problem,  till  he 
hangs  himself?"  said  the  Doctor.  "  No,  no, 
Masker  !  ye  're  not  so  bad  as  that.  We  're 
going  to  get  him  out  of  that  picture :  we  want 
Van  Zandt." 

"I  think  we  can  get  one  step  further  with 
him,  in  the  picture,  too,"  said  the  Dominie  : 
"  you  shall  see."  So  he  went  out. 

The  water  was  still  running  along  the  side- 
drains,  the  rain-drops  glittered  on  all  sides,  and 
the  green  was  fresh  as  if  just  made.  It  was 
hot ;  but  a  breeze  was  springing  up.  The 
walkers  in  the  streets  were  picking  their  way 
(with  dignity  or  daintily,  according  to  age  or 
sex)  among  the  shallow  puddles  on  the  flag- 


86  ABB  AM    VAN  ZANDT, 

stones,  here  and  there,  or  on  the  hollow  planks ; 
windows  were  open,  on  all  sides,  into  cool  houses  ; 
and  the  Dominie  walked  moderately,  and  in 
thought.  At  the  corner  of  Fort  Street,  he  looked 
down,  and  might  have  seen  —  for  they  were 
there  —  the  usual  two  or  three  knots  of  wise- 
looking  talkers  and  listeners.  He  went  to  his 
own  house  ;  answering  salutations,  but  stopping 
nowhere  on  the  way. 

He  demanded  plenty  of  light,  and  there  came 
in  such  a  mellow,  moistened  atmosphere  as  some 
of  those  Flemish  painters  seem  to  have  dipped 
their  pencils  in.  He  took  Van  der  Velde's 
admirable  work  from  the  mantel,  set,  as  it  was, 
in  its  most  becoming  old  frame.  He  made  the 
picture  stand  where  the  light  fell  best  upon  it. 
Then,  standing  nearer  or  further,  he  lost  him 
self  altogether,  in  looking  into  every  part  of  it. 
"  No  wonder !  "  he  said  aloud :  "  one  could  look 
to  see  (before  he  bethought  himself)  the  wind 
lift  one  of  those  branches,  or  the  sunlight  change 
upon  the  hills  !  Why  not  one  of  these  people  set 
forth  and  walk  home  ?  " 

"  Our  friend,  Van  Zandt,  seems  to  have  an- 


THE   MAN    IN   THE   PICTURE.  87 

• 

ticipated  your  question,"  said  a  voice,  chuck 
ling. 

The  Dominie  started  :  it  was  Colonel  Masker, 
who  must  have  knocked,  and  have  been  ad 
mitted,  and  have  entered  this  room,  while  its 
master  was  wrapped  up  in  his  thought,  and  who 
was  now  taking  a  good  place  for  looking  at  the 
picture.  "  That 's  no  tailor,"  said  Mr.  Van 
Emerle,  as  if  thinking  aloud. 

"Then  Van  Zandt  is  living  on  false  pre 
tences,"  said  the  Colonel,  chuckling  again. 

The  Dominie  continued  :  "  No  tailor  ever  cut 
his  own  clothes  after  that  fashion." 

"  It 's  to  be  hoped  he  didn't  often  cut  other 
people's  so,"  said  his  visitor.  "  But  I  agree 
with  you.  This  gentleman  looks  like  what  my 
friend,  Vincent  Le  Ray,  used  to  call '  a  chevalyer 
de fortune'  or  a  <tvoreang.'>  He's  fishing,  I  see." 
Colonel  Masker  gave  a  peculiar  emphasis  to 
three  of  his  words,  which  distinguished  them 
from  ordinary  English :  a  fourth  word  was  un 
mistakably  foreign,  whether  a  term  from  natural 
history  our  readers  must  judge.  Meantime,  his 
host  had  come  to  a  resolution.  Asking  Colonel 


88  ABRAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

Masker  to  excuse  him,  and  to  make  himself  at 
home,  he  called  to  his  daughter,  and  hurriedly 
left  the  house. 

He  found  Peter  Styvart's  executor,  and  by 
him  was  directed  to  Jerry  Valcknaer  as  the  fit 
person  to  tell  him  about  the  dying  man's  mes 
sage  ;  "  but,"  it  was  added,  "  Styvart  didn't 
know  any  more  about  that  picture  than  you  or 
me  1 " 

Valcknaer  in  his  turn  readily  and  intelligently 
explained.  There  were  no  "  three  messengers." 
He  (Valcknaer),  as  the  Dominie  knew,  was 
with  Mr.  Styvart  all  the  last  part  of  his  life, 
and  went  to  Van  Zandt  for  him.  There  was 
nothing  about  any  "tailor."  Mr.  Styvart  said 
there  was  a  likeness  of  Van  Zandt  in  that  pic 
ture,  and  so  there  is,  of  course  ;  but  he  said  the 
picture  was  worth  Van  Zandt's  land  twice  over  ; 
and,  if  Van  Zandt  couldn't  show  sense  enough 
to  get  well  out  of  it,  he  might  be  hanged,  — 
that  was  just  the  whole  of  it. 

The  pastor  next  sought  old  Mr.  Van  Zandt, 
who  was  "  feeling  very  bad,  and  thought  he 
couldn't  feel  much  worse."  Dr.  Campbell  had 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  PICTURE.  89 

been  urgently  sent  for.  The  sick  man  was 
hugging  himself  about  the  stomach. 

Dr.  Campbell  arriving  glanced  from  the 
patient  an  intelligent  and  unfrightened  look 
with  some  fun  in  it  to  the  Dominie,  and,  hold 
ing  one  of  the  sick  man's  wrists,  with  watch 
before  him,  said:  "His  coffee  disagreed  with 
him  ?  Ah !  he  won't  be  able  to  drink  coffee,  if 
this  is  the  way  it  serves  him.  And  he  is  to  go 
into  the  country:  there's  no  mistake  about 
that.  Hank's  farm  's  the  place  for  him." 

The  baker,  trying  to  smile,  objected  brokenly 
that  "  maybe  he  'd  have  to  carry  out  the  man  in 
the  painting  a  little  farther." 

"  Bother  that  man  in  the  painting !  They  '11 
be  carrying  you  out  feet  foremost,  let  me  tell 
ye,  if  ye  don't  do  as  I  bid  ye.  Here,  Mistress ! 
Patsy  Chamberlain  !  "  And  he  opened  the  door 
wide  into  the  bakery,  showing  no  Mrs.  Van 
Zandt,  but  on  the  outside  a  very  pretty  figure 
of  a  girl,  with  a  high  color  and  very  bright  eyes, 
flitting  about  the  green  things  on  the  trays  like 
a  bird  or  other  graceful  thing.  Dr.  Campbell, 
with  a  smile,  holding  the  door  open,  watched  her 


90  ABRAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

till  she  suddenly  left  the  sidewalk  and  came  in. 
At  the  same  moment  a  rattling  of  wheels  was 
heard  upon  the  cobble-stones  of  the  street. 
"  You  didn't  frighten  that  young  man's  horse  ?" 
he  asked ;  but  added  directly  (for  Patsy  looked 
frightened  herself),  "He's  got  a  great  many 
customers  in  Fort  Street,  I  think,  by  so  many 
times  as  I  see  him  going  through  it."  He  looked 
to  the  Dominie.  "  Now  this  I  've  to  say  to  ye, 
Patsy :  the  old  gentleman 's  to  go  to  the  country, 

—  to  Uncle  Hank's  farm,  you  understand  ;  and 
the  old  lady  and  you  have  got  the  business  to 
see  to,  between  ye.     It 's  only  for  a  little,  ye 
know.     We  '11  bring  him  back  to  ye.     Where  's 
Grandma  ?     Here  's  a  powder  for  him,  in  two 
hours,  and  another  in  two  hours  again,  and  so 
on  till  ye  've  given  him  the  six.     Not  much  in 
them,"  he  said  (looking  for  the  Dominie,  who 
had  silently  disappeared),  "but  just  enough  for 
him,"  he  ended,  looking  at  his  patient.     "  I  hear 
ye  're  beating  the  Foxes  all  to  pieces,"  he  added, 

—  "  that  they  '11  have  to  knock  under.     Here 's 
Patsy,  carrying  all  before  her!  —  and  the  old 
lady." 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  PICTURE.  91 

Patsy  was  looking  up,  inquiring  and  fluttered. 
"  We  don't  want  to  hurt  them,"  she  said. 

"  Hurt  who  ?  "  the  Doctor  asked,  smiling. 

"  The  other  people,"  Patsy  answered. 

"  Ah  !  '  the  other  people,'  "  he  said,  laughing 
and  shaking  his  head.  "  She  won't  say  the 
name  now.  Well,  now,  Mr.  Van  Zandt,  ye  're 
to  go  straight  into  the  country,  out  to  the  turn 
pike,  — to  Hank's.  I  '11  come  to  ye,  and  we  '11 
all  come  ;  but  I  won't  answer  for  ye,  if  ye  're 
here  after  to-day,  mind.  He  '11  over  this  clev 
erly  after  a  bit."  So  he  went,  before  the  eyes 
of  citizens  on  both  sides  of  the  street,  more 
than  one  of  whom,  in  a  friendly  way,  joined 
him  in  his  walk. 

In  the  cool  of  the  late  evening,  the  Dominie, 
with  Jerry  Valcknaer,  was  having  a  good  com 
fortable  talk  with  Mr.  Van  Zandt,  who  sat,  with 
a  sick  look,  in  the  off-dock.  The  picture  was 
set  before  them,  with  the  light  of  a  dark  lantern 
turned  upon  it. 

"  He  wa'n't  a  tailor  ?  "  Van  Zandt  asked. 

"  No  tailor  about  him,"  said  Valcknaer. 

"  This  is  to  be  written  down  before  the  picture 
goes"  said  the  Dominie,  formally. 


92  ABRAM   VAN  ZANDT, 

"  Write  it  you,  please,  Doem'iiie  :  my  fingers 
are  carrots  and  parsnips,"  said  Van  Zandt,  with 
out  a  hint  of  disobeying.  "  No  ?  Well,  where 's 
the  woman?  " 

Mistress  Van  Zandt  shamefacedly  declined 
plying  her  simple  pencil  in  so  high  a  walk  of 
literature.  Patsy,  to  the  general  acceptance, 
and  to  the  grandfather's  special  satisfaction, 
took  the  office  and  wrote  as  bidden. 

"About  the  hanging  part?"  asked  Van 
Zandt. 

i  Valcknaer  answered  the  question  readily :  "  If 
you  was  fool  enough  not  to  make  something 
of  that  picture,  you  might  be  hanged." 

Patsy  smiled,  but  blushed,  as  she  wrote. 

The  grandfather  hurried  to  another  question. 
"  Well,  what 's  that  man  doing?  " 

"  Anybody  can  see,"  said  the  Dominie  :  "  he  's 
fishing  from  the  bank  of  a  canal ;  and  "  —  this 
the  good  man  said  a  little  aside,  and  laughing  — 
"  he  doesn't  look  as  if  he  'd  ever  been  at  better 
business,  either.  Now,  that  you  can  try  at 
Hank's.  The  picture  goes  to  Albany  to 
morrow,  I  hope,  and  will  bring  its  value.  You 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  PICTURE.  93 

can  try  for  black  bass :  they  catch  them  down 
there.  You  can  try  it.  I  think  you  '11  tire  of 
it  before  yery  long  ;  but  it  '11  cure  you." 

Next  day,  before  a  little  crowd,  Mr.  Van 
Zandt  left  the  house-door  in  his  son's  wagon, 
taking  a  fishing-rod  and  tackle,  and  jesting  with 
some  of  the  neighbors  over  his  new  move. 

Days  went  on.  Now,  at  length,  the  old  lady 
began  to  recover  her  calm  good-nature  and  her 
broad  smiles.  The  husband  came  in,  a  time  or 
two,  and  was  talked  to  cheerily  by  the  women, 
who  showed  him  that  every  thing  was  going 
well.  Colonel  Masker,  who  was  something  of  a 
sportsman,  had  been  out  fishing  in  that  part  of 
the  river  in  which  his  neighbor  from  the  town 
was  throwing  an  unpractised  hook  and  line,  and 
enjoying  the  sport.  uHe  was  very  reticent,"  as 
the  Colonel  called  it,  "about  every  thing  but 
country,  and  vegetables,  and  fishing."  —  As  for 
Sam  Roedeke,  he  often  said,  "  We  want  a  man 
around." 

Some  things  the  town  was  soon  pretty  clear 
in  its  mind  about :  that  picture  that  took  such 
hold  of  Van  Zandt  had  been  sold  in  Albany, 


94  ABRAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

and  had  fetched  a  great  price ;  and  the  one 
that  bought  it  said  he  'd  have  it,  if  it  cost  his 
life  (or  something  very  strong)  ;  that  the  busi 
ness  was  thriving  under  the  women ;  and  that 
the  old  man  was  turning  out  a  great  gardener. 
One  thing  the  town  had  not  yet  made  out :  how 
Abram  Van  Zandt  was  to  settle  up  his  business. 
Patsy  Chamberlain  was  growing  thin  :  she  was 
refusing  one  young  dominie,  somebody  said, 
from  Columbia  County,  just  to  go  on  with  that 
business.  Now  the  fact  was  that  Patsy  —  but 
let  us  remember  that  this  story  is  about  the 
grandfather. 

Dominie  Van  Emerle  was  walking  toward 
Henry  (or  Hank)  Van  Zandt's,  and  smiled  as 
he  came  upon  a  deserted  fishing-rod,  stretched 
over  the  river-bank  and  fastened  with  a  stone. 
He  found  the  old  man  doing  some  rather  super 
fluous  weeding.  "  The  last  of  the  picture  !  " 
said  the  Dominie,  putting  into  his  hand  a  check. 
"  That 's  what  Styvart  meant  by  following  it 
up  rightly." 

"  Twelve  hundred  dollars !  "  said  Van  Zandt, 
after  looking  at  the  check  for  some  time,  in  a 


THE   MAN   IN   THE   PICTUKE.  95 

maze.  "Well,"  said  he,  when  he  had  gathered 
his  thoughts,  "  this  is  from  t  'other  fellow, 
Doem'nie."  And  he  laughed  a  free  laugh. 
"  Only  one  of  us  here  now !  " 

"  Now,  certainly,"  said  the  Dominie,  "  you  can 
give  that  bit  of  land  "  — 

"  You  're  witness,  Doem'nie,  this  is  for  Patsy's 
wedding." 

"  Rut  you  don't  want  to  keep  that  ground 
now  you  've  been  overpaid  for  it  by  a  dead 
man  "  — 

"  Oh,  no  !  no,  no  !  "  said  the  other  :  "  that 's 
so,  Doem'nie.  This  is  better, — this  is  as  good 
as  the  land,  about.  I  '11  give  the  land  for  that 
Lancaster  schoo  —  "  Here  there  was  an  inter 
ruption.  A  big  man,  who,  from  his  dress  and 
the  hoe  over  his  shoulder,  might  be  supposed  to 
belong  on  the  farm,  was  laughingly  bringing  a 
trig  but  unaccountably  bashful  young  man  — 
Eben  Fox,  in  short,  but  changed,  somehow  — 
toward  the  two  elder  people. 

"  Well,  I  '11  go,"  said  Eben,  starting  forward  ; 
and  he  came.  "  Mr.  Van  Zandt,"  he  said,  "  I  'm 
willing  to  go  out  of  the  business." 


96  ABRAM  VAN  ZANDT, 

Tins  sudden  announcement  was  received  by 
the  baker  —  who  had  carefully  folded  and  put 
away  his  check  —  with  a  very  unsympathetic 
stare.  "  Please  yourself,"  he  said. 

"  Or  I  '11  go  into  your  shop  for  a  journeyman." 

"  Maybe  you  best  stay  where  you  are,"  said 
the  other,  upon  whom  the  dignity  of  long 
supremacy  in  his  trade  seemed  strong  at  the 
moment.  "  I  don't  hear  of  the  women  wanting 
to  hire." 

"  Oh,  Grampa  ! "  said  a  new  voice  suddenly, 
as  Patsy  came  from  some  unseen  place.  "  Gram 
ma  was  saying,  only  to-day,  if  we  just  had  a 
young  man  like  "  — 

"What!  You  don't  want  him,  Patsy? 
Did  you  know  about  it,  Hank  ? "  said  the 
grandfather. 

"  It  wouldn't  be  bad,  would  it,  sir  ?  "  asked 
Patsy,  looking  at  the  Dominie.  If  we  had  a 
right,  we  could  tell  the  reader  how  frank  and 
winning  her  look  was. 

"It  looks  pretty  clear,"  said  Dominie  Van 
Emerle  ;  "and  how  can  you  do  better?  It'll 
make  one  business." 


THE  MAN   IN   THE   PICTURE.  97 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Van  Zandt,  "  I  didn't  think 
of  it.  Well,  we  can.  Oh,  well  I  you,  Patsy," 
—  for  Patsy  was  crying,  —  "go  right  home  to 
your  gramma  (how  ever  you  got  out  here !) 
Whatever  she  says,  we  '11  do  it,  I  suppose. 
Come !  it  shall  be  as  she  says." 

Our  business  is  not  with  the  grand-daughter, 
nor  with  Eben  Fox,  although  he  went  straight 
into  Mr.  Van  Zandt's  shop,  and  became  the 
chief  person  there :  we  must  go  on  with  our 
man  whose  strange  likeness  had  gone,  with  the 
rest  of  the  skilful  figures  and  landscape  of  Van 
der  Velde,  where  it  was  valued. 

Abram  Van  Zandt  lived  on.  He  talked  half 
laughingly,  half  mysteriously,  about  "  t  'other 
man,"  as  he  sat  smoking  in  his  doorway,  or 
with  a  knot  of  neighbors  in  the  off-dock.  Peo 
ple  told  the  story  of  the  picture ;  he  told  it 
himself ;  Westenvlieters  gazed  at  him  from  the 
sidewalk  across  the  street ;  and  strangers,  said 
to  be  from  Albany  or  elsewhere  abroad,  stood 
often,  buying  or  not  buying,  at  his  stand  or  in 
his  shop,  looking  curiously  at  him  and  the  rest. 
Sometimes  these  strangers,  it  was  said,  cried  out 
5 


98  ABRAM  VAN  ZANDT. 

that  "  it  was  the  strangest  thing  they  ever  knew." 
And  all  this  time  he  lived  on  quietly. 

To  those  who  are  curious  to  know  whether  he 
died  like  other  people,  and  had  his  body  in  an 
honest  graveyard,  or  whether  he  is  still  living, 
we  can  say  only  that  we  would  tell  all  this  with 
pleasure,  but  that  the  old  man,  having  set  off  on 
a  visit  to  his  son  in  far-away  Ohio;  was  never 
heard  from  beyond  Pittsburgh  or  the  Alleghany 
River. 

What  the  picture  had  to  do  with  him,  every 
one  must  judge  for  himself. 


MR.    SCHERMERHORN'S    MARRIAGE 
AND   WIDOWHOOD. 


Alors  .  .  .  le  soleil  brille,  gaiement  ;  la  brise  parfume  ;  toutes 
les  illusions,  ces  oiseaux  du  matin  de  la  vie,  gazouillent  autour 
de  nous  !  Pourquoi  s'envolent-elles,  plus  tard  ?  —  SOUVESTRE, 
Philosophe  sous  les  Toils,  Chap.  VI. 


who  knew  Westenvliet,  fifty  years 
agone,  must  remember  (but  their  hearts 
will  give  a  little  bound  as  -they  recall  her) 
Grace  Aylwin.  Who  of  them  cannot  see  her 
again,  as  she  grew  up  through  her  pretty  and  win 
some  maidenhood,  with  everybody  wishing  good 
things  to  her;  and  as  with  all  her  true,  young 
heart  she  married  ;  and  as,  like  a  fair-tinted,  light- 
floating  vapor  of  the  morning,  she  passed  away 
before  men's  eyes.  Our  readers  of  the  finer 
breeding  in  the  town  will  not  forget  her,  as  with 
their  own  children  she  came  to  their  own  or  their 
neighbors'  houses,  the  gentlest  and  most  graceful 


100  MB.     SCHERMERHORN'S 

of  the  little  throng  that  carried  laughter  and 
frolic  up  and  down  the  stairways  and  along  the 
garden-walks.  They  can  easily  bring  back 
with  the  name  the  glossy,  waving  hair,  the 
deep  and  bashful  eyes ;  the  burst  of  laughter, 
harmless  and  fresh  as  the  rippling  of  a  brook ; 
her  flash  of  red  confusion ;  the  touching  quick 
ness  and  softness  of  her  voice ;  and  her  lithe 
slight  shape.  How  eager  in  her  speech  she  was, 
and  how  suddenly  still,  among  a  troop  of  girls 
going  through  Hague  Street  to  that  day's 
famous  school,  in  Bridge  Way  Avenue !  The 
dealers  of  that  time  (many  of  them,  after  the 
safe  fashion  of  the  place,  now  retired  and  com 
fortable)  can  recollect  what  a  pleasant  way  the 
child  had  at  their  counters,  and  that  she  was  a 
graceful  young  thing  as  she  passed  before  their 
doors. 

The  grandmotherly  neighbors,  too,  who  cher 
ish  all  the  memories  and  tell  over  all  the  stories 
of  the  town,  like  worthy  Mrs.  Van  Schaack,  or 
Mrs.  Ten  Eyck,  or  another  one  or  two,  will  yet 
talk  of  the  pretty  English  orphan.  They  tell  one, 
as  if  it  were  going  on  now,  how  "  she  was  always 


MARRIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  101 

afraid,  and  always  trying  not  to  be  afraid  of  her 
hard  old  guardian,  Philip  Coerlies,  that  used  to 
be  the  head  of  the  bank  in  Classis  Street.  The 
poor  child!  "  as  they  call  her  tenderly  at  that 
part  of  her  life,  "  when  Mrs.  Swart  (that  lived  in 
the  large  house  at  the  corner  of  Yande water 
Street)  was  consoling  her,  saying  that '  her  guar 
dian,  at  any  rate,  would  not  steal  her  money, 
she  'd  get  her  own  out  of  his  hands  with  a 
handsome  increase,'  Gracie  said,  4  Oh  !  I  'd  give 
a  great  deal  of  money  for  only  a  little  love.' " 

Old  Mr.  Van  Home  laughed  (he  that  made  so 
much  money  in  forwarding).  He  said,  "  She  'd 
find  her  money  worth  all  the  love  Philip  Coer 
lies  could  give  her  ; "  and  Mrs.  Swart  turned 
and  said,  "  Perhaps  something  better  than  that 
would  come  sometime." 

To  this  day,  as  if  it  were  happening  now, 
the  hearts  of  these  cherishers  of  old  memories 
enlarge  themselves  for  a  moment,  to  recall  how 
when  she  was  eighteen,  and  more  loving  and 
winning  than  ever,  one  time  it  came  out  that  she 
was  engaged  to  the  best  match  in  the  town,  — 
in  fact,  the  only  one  that  was  good  enough  for 


102  MR.  SCHERMEEHORN'S 

her,  —  she  was  engaged  to  be  married  to  young 
John  Schermerhorn,  the  lawyer. 

And  who  in  Westenvliet,  or  in  a  good  many 
towns  about  it,  has  not  heard  'the  talk,  and 
has  not  himself  talked,  about  the"  riddle  of  John 
Schermerhorn's  later  life. 

He  was  from  the  beginning  of  his  manhood 
called  "  as  likely  a  young  man  as  any  in  the 
county,"  or,  as  the  phrase  went  then,  "in  the 
two  counties."  He  was  of  inherited  good  stand 
ing  ;  and  of  course,  in  a  town  of  that  size,  what 
is  called  "  good  blood "  of  several  generations 
does  not  run  in  many  channels.  He  was  of 
decided  character,  of  more  ability  than  is  com 
mon,  and  of  a  strong  turn  for  study  and  even  for 
research.  Attorney-General  Parsons,  a  friend 
from  early  life  and  all  through  life,  has  often 
repeated  Mr.  Schermerhorn's  saying,  "  that  a 
thoughtful,  studious  man,  working  upon  men, 
must  have  a  good,  strong  love  to  even  him." 
"  Schermerhorn,"  the  Attorney-General  said, 
"  was  the  man  for  great  love,  and  great  work, 
too,  of  all  the  men  I  ever  met ;  and  he  got 
it,"  he  added,  "  if  it  didn't  4  even '  him." 


MAEEIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  103 

It  is  not  very  long  since  Mr.  Schermerhorn 
held  a  large  place  at  the  bar,  and  it  must  be 
easy  to  remind  a  generation  which  has  not 
grown  out  of  memory  of  that  day  when  "  long  " 
John  Schermerhorn  (as  he  was  called,  only  be 
cause  he  had  a  cousin  who  was  short)  was  to  be 
met  oftener  in  his  chambers  and  in  conference 
with  committees,  and  in  very  choice  social  gath 
erings,  than  in  court  rooms.  A  generation  since, 
his  mass  of  heavy  hair  was  gray,  his  shoulders 
stooped  a  little,  and  his  brows  hung  over  ;  but, 
when  he  lifted  his  eyes  and  fastened  them  on 
one,  what  a  depth  of  sadness  showed  itself 
through  all  the  strength  and  thoughtfulness 
that  was  in  them. 

But  our  story  is  to  be  of  his  life  away  from 
that  greater  world,  and  so  we  ask  our  readers  to 
go  back  with  us  to  the  days  when,  after  he  had 
been  for  two  or  three  years  in  possession  of 
his  inheritance  and  the  family-house;  and  some 
time  after  it  had  suddenly  become  known  that 
Grace  Aylwin  and  he  were  betrothed,  the  time 
was  given  out  for  the  wedding.  The  house 
had  been  the  show-house  of  all,  for  books  and 


104  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

pictures  and  tilings  of  all  sorts,  handsome  and 
costly ;  but  the  young  owner  had  not  lived 
there.  His  sister,  too,  Mrs.  Suydam,  was  staying 
in  her  widowhood  in  a  Western  town  where  she 
had  lived.  So  the  change  that  came  upon  the 
house,  which  had  for  several  years  past,  under 
the  care  of  an  old  couple,  been  kept  only 
washed  and  scrubbed,  and  now  and  then  aired, 
was  as  great  as  upon  a  living  being  coming  out 
of  a  long  fit  of  melancholy  or  absent-minded 
ness.  Now  a  considerable  number  of  respecta 
ble,  leisurely  neighbors  were  visiting  it,  to  keep 
themselves  informed  of  the  changes  going  on. 
Our  readers  must  give  in  a  little  to  the  homely 
ways  of  the  place,  nor  think  the  less  of  young 
Mr.  Schermerhorn  and  of  Grace  Aylwin  that 
they,  being  refined  (and  rich,  if  that  goes  for 
any  thing),  were  neighborly  to  their  townspeople, 
and  humored  this  frank  and  kindly  curiosity.  '. 
The  time  was  bright  in  Westenvliet  when 
they  were  married.  The  girls — handsome  and 
otherwise  (we  will  not  count  them  all  up)  who 
had  gone  out  of  their  way  into  John  Schermer- 
horn's  way  to  let  him  know,  beyond  mistake, 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  105 

how  easily  they  were  to  be  had,  if  he  would 
have  them  —  now  all  proclaimed  to  all  the 
winds  how  glad  they  were  that  "  John  Scher- 
merhorn  had  made  that  match  of  all  matches  : 
they  had  been  only  hoping  that  he  would." 
Only  the  lately  married  Mrs.  Bleecker,  who  a 
little  while  ago,  as  Nellie  Kearney,  made  so 
many  visits  here  among  her  schoolmates  in  her 
girl-days,  said  that  "  Grace  Ay  1  win  was  bright 
and  pretty  and  elegant  and  sweet  and  every 
thing,  but,  after  all,  it  was  not  exactly  the 
match  she  would  have  expected  John  Schermer- 
horn  to  make  ;  "  and  people  said  that  Miss  Nellie 
had  wanted  him  herself.  Grace  Ayl win's  nearest 
friends,  who  had  caught  a  little  of  that  divine 
life  that  lifts  the  happy  being,  with  wings  un 
seen,  were,  more  buoyantly  than  ever,  flitting 
in  and  out  of  the  shops  and  one  another's 
houses,  wearing  about  them  an  air  of  delight 
ful  business,  mixed,  as  it  were,  with  a  pretty 
mystery. 

Grace  Ayl  win  herself  was  just  then,  perhaps, 
the  most  important  person  in  the  town.     Few 

eyes   failed  to  see  her ;   and   seeing  her  more 
5* 


106  MR.  SCIIERMEEHORN'S 

thoughtful  and  earnest-looking,  and  at  the  same 
time  more  gentle  and  withdrawing  than  ever, 
every  one  said  that  whatever  she  did  was  just 
right.  Young  Mr.  Schermerhorn,  too,  was  more 
seen  and  talked  of  than  before  ;  and  it  was  said 
that  being  in  love  "  was  going  to  make  another 
man  of  him,  —  that  he  entered  into  things  outside 
his  books  and  his  profession,  and  took  hold  of 
things  with  other  people,  more  than  any  one 
could  have  thought  was  in  him." 

Doubtless,  there  were  other  marriages  going 
forward ;  but  from  all  that  was  said  and  done  it 
might  have  been  thought  that  this  was  the  only 
match-making  in  all  Westenvliet :  it  might 
almost  have  been  thought  that  the  whole  com 
munity  was  going  to  be  married  in  it.  The 
heart  of  the  worthy  old  town  had  grown  — 
quietly  and  solidly  after  its  way  —  astir  ;  and 
when  it  was  understood  that  Grace,  according  to 
the  manner  of  the  Church  of  her  fathers,  was  to 
be  wedded  in  the  house  of  God,  there  was  an 
understanding  also  that,  although  that  custom 
had  fallen  out  of  use,  the  town  meant  to  be 
within  sight  and  hearing  of  all  that  was  to  be 
seen  and  heard. 


MARRIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  107 

It  was  a  gentle,  still  October  morning,  when 
suddenly  the  clang  of  the  bell  was  heard 
through  all  the  streets,  followed  by  as  sudden 
stillness.  The  stillness  was  not  broken  after 
wards,  and  the  town  wondered,  until  some  boys, 
who  claimed  to  have  been  eye-witnesses,  spread 
everywhere  the  explanation  that  "little  Easterly, 
the  sexton,  had  begun  a  joyful  salutation  to 
the  day  with  such  vigor  that  the  bell-rope, 
every  few  seconds,  carried  the  unsubstantial 
ringer  up  to  the  ceiling.  Then  word  came  to 
him  from  Miss  Aylwin  and  John  Schermerhorn 
and  Mr.  Digges  (which  last  was  the  rector,  for 
boys  always  furnish  ample  authority  in  their 
stories)  that  they  all  wanted  him  to  keep  quiet ; 
and  they  sent  him  a  golden  or  a  silver  dollar,  — 
the  boys  were  not  sure  which."  At  this  multi 
tudinous  instance,  according  to  the  boys'  story, 
Easterly  gave  over  his  jubilant  dangling  in 
the  air,  amid  the  waves  of  clanging  sound  that 
swelled  out  from  the  old  bell.  "The  money," 
Mr.  Easterly  assured  his  youthful  witnesses, 
"was  right,  — that  was  right;"  and  he  put  it 
into  his  pocket. 


108  ME.  SCHEEMEEHOEN'S 

"  But  being  stopped  in  that  way,  —  that !  "  he 
said,  "  was  not  right :  it  didn't  look  well.  Of 
course  he  didn't  mean  any  thing  by  that :  of 
course  there  was  nothing  in  it ;  only  he  meant 
it  did  not  look  right." 

The  sexton  was  somewhat  consoled  by  learn 
ing  afterward  that  such  exultant  noise  as  he 
had  made  was  heard  by  many  ears.  The  weekly 
newspaper  had  in  its  last  issue  described  that 
bell  with  a  strength  of  assertion  and  a  particu 
larity,  which  perhaps  carried  along  even  the 
very  vestrymen  who  had  before  believed  them 
selves  to  have  bought  it,  as  having  been  pre 
sented  to  this  old  church  by  William  and 
Mary.  Another  authority,  public  rumor,  tak 
ing  up  the  tale  and  giving  it  a  finish,  asserted 
that  the  august  hands  of  king  and  queen  helped 
at  the  casting  in  London.  Most  people,  there 
fore,  were  quite  ready  for  its  ringing  on  Miss 
Aylwin's  wedding-clay. 

Its  sudden  clanging  and  its  sudden  stopping 
drew  many  a  leisurely,  thoughtful  person  to  look 
out  upon  the  quiet  beauty  of  land  and  sky  that 
day ;  and  the  earth  seemed  to  be,  as  we  often 


MARRIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  109 

are,  enjoying  mere  life.     They  said  it  promised 
well. 

All  things  were  drawing  toward  the  wed 
ding.  There  were  but  three  real  coaches  in  the 
town  at  that  time  ;  and  of  these  one  properly 
belonged  a  little  way  outside :  but  the  three 
were,  of  course,  all  at  the  church  that  morning, 
more  than  once,  and  each  set  down  at  its  door 
more  than  one  load  of  well-dressed  people. 
The  throng  of  folk  that  came  on  foot  and 
crowded  all  the  pews  and  alleys,  who  could 
count?  The  newspaper,  as  soon  as  it  could  get 
its  weekly  voice,  proclaimed  with  all  its  might 
that  "something  short  of  a  thousand  were  in 
and  about  the  venerable  pile." 

As  one  after  another  the  bridal  party  walked 
into  the  church,  such  words  as  are  almost  always 
said  of  brides  flew,  seemingly,  of  their  own  life 
from  the  lips  of  those  who  had  been  waiting 
near  the  door,  and  who  made  way  to  each  side  for 
Grace  Aylwin  and  her  company  to  pass.  She  was 
simply  dressed,  and  so  were  they  ;  and,  being  so, 
the  bride  looked  most  lovely  ;  and  Kate  Van 
Cortlandt  and  Carrie  Duncan  looked  beautifully ; 


110  MB.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

Jennie  Yates  looked  beautifully,  and  Kate 
Schuyler,  of  Albany.  It  was  said  of  them  all 
that  "  they  looked  just  pretty  enough  to  be  about 
that  bride."  That  the  gentle  maiden  in  giving 
herself — for  better,  for  worse,  till  death  should 
part  her  from  her  husband — should  be  pale 
as  snow,  and  that  her  modest  eyes  should  be  cast 
down,  except  when  she  lifted  them  to  look  into 
the  priest's  face  in  answering,  and  when,  in  mak 
ing  her  promise,  she  gave  one  glance  of  steadfast 
and  sure  faith  to  him  to  whom  she  pledged  herself 
to  be  true,  seemed  to  all  who  could  see  it,  or  half 
see  it,  or  even  try  to  see  it,  as  right  as  every  thing 
else  that  she  had  done.  The  breathless  stillness 
was  remarkable.  To  be  sure,  the  sound  of  the 
organ,  strange  to  many  who  were  there,  had 
kept  them  at  first  looking  back ;  then  the 
priestly  robes,  and  stately  service,  and  solemn, 
old-fashioned  forms  and  ceremonies  were 
strange  :  but  now  all  Westenvliet  had  before  it 
what  it  had  waited  for, — this  marriage.  Every 
word  of  pledging  and  plighting  and  promising 
and  blessing  was  caught  up  from  the  waves  of 
sound  into  eager  ears  ;  and  curious  eyes  watched 


MARKIAGE  AND  WIDOWHOOD.  Ill 

the  old-time  business  of  the  ring,  and  solemn 
joining  of  hands. 

At  the  end,  some  of  the  leading  people  found 
out  what  they  seemed  to  take  for  a  new  phrase, 
and  evidently  took  for  a  tunny  one :  they  did  not 
soon  tire  of  saying  that  the  two  were  "  pretty 
thoroughly  married."  Even  the  jerk  with 
which  Mr.  Coerlies  gave  away  the  bride  seemed 
to  many  a  regular  part  of  the  process.  Of 
course,  this  good-natured  joke  was  said  to  the 
bridegroom  by  as  many  of  the  discoverers  as 
found  a  chance,  and  the  happy  man  answered 
pleasantly  in  the  same  strain,  that  "that  was 
what  he  came  for  ;  "  and  the  answer  was  taken 
for  a  piece  off  the  same  wit  from  which  they  had 
cut  their  own  phrase.  Everybody  was  in  good 
humor.  Mrs.  Suydam,  his  sister,  who  had  come 
all  the  way  from  Buffalo,  but  had  kept  aloof, 
because  of  her  deep  widow's  mourning,  saluted 
bride  and  bridegroom,  without  tears. 

Major  Prout  was  thought  to  have  done  a  very 
neat  thing  when  he  presented  the  new  wife  with 
a  rose-bud  and  a  courtly  word  or  two  of  wish 
that  "life  might  open  before  her  as  that  open- 


112  MR.  SCHEEMEKHOKN'S 

ing  blossom."  The  words  were  repeated  by 
others,  as  well  as  himself,  and  found  their  way 
into  the  newspaper. 

As  simple  and  pretty  as  the  bride's  dress  was 
every  thing.  There  was  no  heaped  and  unmean 
ing  waste  of  the  beauty  and  sweetness  of  flow 
ers.  Only  single,  white,  half-open  roses  marked 
Grace  and  her  companions.  Along  the  chancel- 
rail  indeed,  without  invading  the  altar,  and  over 
the  outer  door- way,  were  wreaths  and  garlands 
of  fair  roses  and  lilies  ;  and,  when  the  wedding- 
party  left  the  church,  there  stood  raised  upon 
slight  props  from  either  side,  above  the  gravel- 
walk,  just  where  the  great  elm  used  to  spread 
over  the  way,  a  light,  airy  crown  of  flowers, 
from  whose  neighborhood  the  round  and  rosy 
Mr.  Case l  Barendt,  a  young  lawyer,  and  clerk 
of  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas,  was  retreating 
hastily,  smiling,  as  if  he  had  just  set  it  up.  None 
were  suffered  to  go  under  it  but  the  bridal 
couple.  Then,  by  Mr.  Barendt's  direction,  it 
was  borne  by  the  young  groomsmen,  to  be  set  up 
in  Mr.  Schermerhorn's  drawing-room. 
1  Diminutive  for  Cornelius. 


MARRIAGE  AND  WIDOWHOOD.  113 

Our  Westenvlieters,  like  their  foregoers  across 
the  sea,  have  always  among  them,  floating  on 
the  tide  of  hereditary  transmission,  and  likely  to 
show  itself  anywhere,  in  any  generation,  a  turn 
for  pageants ;  and  it  was  understood  that  Simon 
Van  Arsdale,  the  grocer,  who  had  a  name  in 
this  and  several  neighboring  towns  for  shows  on 
Fourth-of-Julys,  had  outdone  himself,  in  plan 
ning  for  this  happy  day.  So  when  Mr.  Van 
Arsdale,  who  had  taken  his  place  near  the 
church-door,  was  quietly  withdrawing  before 
any  one  else,  he  presently  found  himself  at 
tended  by  a  good  many  boys  and  not  a  few 
young  men.  The  Schermerhorn  house  was  only 
a  little  way  off,  in  Fort  Street.  The  bridal  party, 
without  the  affectation  of  getting  into  carriages, 
for  a  few  steps,  and  out  of  them,  were  to  walk ; 
so  any  little  doubling  or  make-believe  which 
the  ingenious  man  might  try  in  the  short  time 
would  serve  him  little.  His  small  crowd 
doubled  with  him,  and  all  together  came  once 
more  opposite  the  "church,  just  as  the  marriage- 
party,  headed  by  Mr.  Case  Barendt  and  the 
groomsmen  with  their  high-arched  crown  of 


114  MR.  SCHEKMEKHORN'S 

flowers,  were  setting  foot  on  the  carpet  (laid 
down  by  Mr.  Joralemon,  the  merchant)  to  cross 
the  street. 

It  was  really  holiday  time :  bride,  bridegroom, 
the  weather,  the  town,  all  were  keeping  holiday 
together.  All  people  and  all  things  seemed  to 
belong  to  the  young  pair.  For  Grace,  life 
seemed  to  be  in  her  and  about  her,  to  use  just 
as  much  and  just  as  little  of  it  as  she  chose. 

The  much-respected  Arion  Sodality,  in  the 
persons  of  Mr.  Sickles,  flutist,  and  Mr.  Venables, 
violinist,  each  with  a  boy  of  moderate  size,  hold 
ing  up  his  sheet  of  music,  were  stationed  on  Mr. 
Bradt's  stoep,  exactly  in  front,  and  were  hastily 
giving  each  other  a  preliminary  note,  when  Mr. 
Van  Arsdale  slipped  into  a  back  place  in  the  pro 
cession.  His  "  crowd,"  slackening  its  steps  and 
stilling  its  sounds,  in  presence  of  the  grace 
and  elegance  and  wealth  and  authority  of  the 
town,  accepted  this  turn  of  the  hunt.  One  of 
its  least  voices  began,  under  its  breath,  amid 
some  gigglings  of  other  small  voices, — each 
uttering  a  share  of  the  general  gladness,  —  to 
call  upon  "  Mister  Ven'rable  "  to  "  strike  out." 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  115 

How  bright  all  things  were  that  wedding- 
time  !  The  mellow  warmth  and  sunshine  of  the 
weather,  the  trick  of  which  the  year  had  learned 
from  early  summer  and  changed  but  little  for  its 
present  use,  explained  why  the  musical  per 
formers  had  sought  the  shelter  of  Mr.  Bradt's 
doorway.  The  flute's  notes  had  already  begun 
to  ripple  over  the  air,  and  already  the  violin  had 
sent  its  energetic  raspings  among  all  the  drier 
and  more  angular  aerial  particles ;  and  already 
the  fair  bride,  in  passing,  had  paid  the  respecta 
ble  neighbors  —  the  musical  sodality  —  the  com 
pliment  of  recognizing,  with  words  and  smile  of 
equal  grace,  their  melody  as  "  The  Ingleside  for 
me,"  when  the  attraction  of  the  moving  current 
made  itself  felt  upon  the  young  holders  of  the 
music-sheets,  to  draw  them  off  from  duty  to  the 
kindred  boyhood  in  the  crowd. 

The  young  married  couple  and  their  train  of 
friends  were  moving  happily  onwards,  before 
Mr.  Van  Arsdale  was  missed ;  but  then  the  firm 
and  authoritative  bearing  and  official  weight  of 
Constable  Hopper,  added  to  the  aforesaid  pres 
ence  of  wealth,  beauty,  and  dignity  in  the  pro- 


116 


cession,  prevailed  on  the  small  crowd  watching 
Mr.  Van  Arsdale's  movements  to  follow  quietly, 
if  a  little  impatient,  in  the  rear.  It  was  but  a 
little  time  to  wait ;  for  in  a  moment  or  two,  al 
most,  after  leaving  the  much-respected  mem 
bers  of  the  musical  sodality  to  get  on  as  they 
might,  without  their  notes  and  without  listeners, 
the  wedding-party  were  at  the  end  of  their 
walk.  The  house,  always  substantial  and  roomy 
and  handsome,  now  showed  a  festal  openness 
from  eaves  to  cellar,  and  from  end  to  end ;  while 
the  one-storied  "office"  at  its  side  shared,  as  far 
as  its  size  allowed,  in  all  the  gladness  and  glory. 
It  must  be  thought  that  the  chief  persons  in 
the  procession  would  like  to  get  home  as  quietly 
as  possible ;  but  they  lingered,  good-naturedly 
and  gracefully — having  so  large  and  rich  a  life 
now  put  into  their  possession,  on  which  they 
were  just  entering  —  for  the  ingenious  Mr.  Van 
Arsdale's  performance.  There  the  father  of 
pageants  was  already,  —  a  substantial,  large- 
whiskered,  fresh-complexioned  man,  in  a  state 
of  good-natured  astonishment.  All  gazed  ;  the 
young  bride  smiled  through  blushes;  and  the 


MARRIAGE  AND  WIDOWHOOD.  117 

bridegroom,  happy  as  in  a  thorough  holiday 
from  all  law  and  learning,  riding  at  the  very  top 
of  the  tide  of  life,  was  ready  to  laugh,  and  looked 
to  her  to  see  if  laughing  was  the  right  thing. 
The  little  crowd  were  open-mouthed  and  wonder 
ing.  The  round  sun,  with  that  kindly,  patient 
look  that  he  wears  after  the  great  work  of  the 
year  is  done,  was  standing  over. 

So  happy  were  all  things,  —  so  happy !  May 
we  linger  in  them  ? 

"  Well,  now  I  declare,  if  that  doesn't  beat 
every  thing  !  "  said  the  inventor  of  festal  shows. 
"  I  'm  'most  a  mind  to  let  him  stay  just  as  he  is, 
—  he  's  so  pretty.  You  see  what  he  is,  don't 
you  ?  He  ought  to  be  awake  with  his  little  bow 
drawn  up  ;  but  isn't  he  pretty  ?  " 

There  was  a  murmur  of  approval  among 
a  few  women  who  were  gathering. 

"  Oh,  the  little  angel ! "  cried  a  Mrs.  Flitch 
who  had  drawn  near.  "  When  he  comes  down, 
let  me  have  him!  " 

4-  What  can  it  be  ?  "  another  asked.  "  Is  it  a 
real  live  one  ?  Won't  he  catch  cold  ?  " 

"  Flesh-colored  tights,  marm,"  said  the  inven 
tor,  in  a  stage  whisper. 


118  ME.  SCHERMERHOKN'S 

Mr.  Van  Arsdale's  show,  as  it  now  stood,  was 
made  up  of  a  little,  curly,  chubby  boy,  on  a 
staging  all  trimmed  with  cloth  and  ribbons, 
under  the  gable-roof  of  the  office.  The  child 
had  no  appearance  of  clothing  upon  him,  except 
a  silken  band  by  which  he  was  fancifully  se 
cured  :  one  filmy,  gauzy  butterfly- wing  was  in 
sight,  growing  out  of  his  shoulder,  and  a  lesser 
one  from  an  ankle.  He  lay  with  one  little  knee 
drawn  up  in  the  air,  and  his  head  rolled  over  on 
one  of  his  soft  arms,  while  the  other  was  stretched 
carelessly  across  his  breast,  beside  the  bow  which 
had  fallen  out  of  his  sleepy  grasp.  In  short,  he 
looked  and  was  lying  just  as  a  painter  would 
like  him,  but  as  no  man,  for  his  life,  could  have 
put  him,  or  made  him  look. 

The  good-natured  inventor  of  shows,  without 
a  doubt  that  the  world  would  wait  for  him, 
proud  of  his  success,  spoke  from  the  land  of  fact 
into  that  of  fancy,  which  in  simple  places  can  be 
kept  very  near,  "  Here,  little  man  !  here  's  your 
arrow.  You  've  got  to  shoot  somebody,  you 
know. " 

The     bride,    the    bridegroom,   all    the    good 


MAKRIAGE  AND  WIDOWHOOD.  119 

people,  smiled  expectantly;  and  the  sleeper 
awaking,  abashed  but  roguish,  twanged  his  bow 
string  hurriedly.  The  bride  instinctively  drew 
aside  ;  the  bridegroom,  laughing,  held  up  his 
hand,  as  if  to  catch  the  arrow :  there  was  a  noisy 
flutter  of  females  away  from  the  very  harmless- 
looking  weapon ;  but  the  archer,  with  his  child 
ish  aim,  shot  no  one,  —  he  brought  to  the 
ground  the  topmost  and  largest  of  the  many- 
colored  lamps  hung  up  for  the  evening's  illu 
mination. 

Mr.  Schermerhorn,  Mrs.  Schermerhorn,  Mrs. 
Suydam,  the  tender  widow,  all  the  good  peo 
ple,  hastened  to  console  the  archer :  only  one 
voice  was  heard,  saying  something  like  "  omen" 
or  "  ominous ; "  and  this  Mr.  Van  Arsdale  an 
swered  with  a  cheery  assurance  that  a  prettier 
lamp  would  be  up  in  a  moment.  No  one  in 
the  good  old  Dutch  town  troubles  himself  with 
auguries  until  they  have  proved  true.  So  Mr. 
Van  Arsdale  only  hurried  his  other  piece, 
because,  as  everybody  knew,  a  special  four- 
horse  coach  from  Mr.  Henry's  was  to  come  at 
one  o'clock  to  take  the  young  people  the  first 
stage  of  their  wedding  journey  to  Buffalo. 


120  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

If  we  have  lingered  over  the  memories  of  that 
time,  which  with  its  few  pretty,  simple  surround 
ings  our  elder  people  can  remember  tenderly, 
we  have  not  done  as  much  by  it  as  we  would ; 
but  now  we  will  trim  our  sails,  and  try  to  make 
better  headway. 

The  bride,  smiling  graciously,  and  the  bride 
groom,  submissively,  were  stationed  under  Mr. 
Barendt's  crown. 

Our  readers  can  for  themselves,  even  if  they 
are  no  Van  Arsdales,  fancy  how  the  allegoric 
Four  Seasons  were  attired,  and  how  they  pre 
sented  to  the  fair  young  wife  a  Poem,  which 
they  would  have  sung,  if  they  had  dared.  In 
place  of  'singing,  —  when,  after  some  homely  ur 
gency,  he  found  that  he  could  not  have  it,  —  Mr. 
Van  Arsdale  took  it  upon  himself  to  read  it. 

"A  CAROL  FOR  THE  YOUNG  WIFE. 

Come  forth,  thou  pretty  bride !     With  dainty  feet 
Tread  thy  fair  world,  where  sun-driven  shadows  fleet. 
This  earth  is  thine,  with  thine  own  sky  above ; 
And  these  thy  flowers,  wherewith  the  earth  blooms  love. 
Come  forth,  where  all  things  wait ! 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  121 

See  !  this  is  not  the  world  where  thou  wast  born ; 
This  is  no  world  thou  sawest,  yestermorn  : 
The  mead,  the  water,  rock,  and  height,  and  tree, 
A  new  life  wear,  this  day,  sweet  bride  for  thee  ! 
Come  ere  the  hour  wears  late !  " 

"I'll  keep  those  verses  as  long  as  I  live," 
said  the  bride,  taking  them  from  the  reader, 
and  hurrying  away  with  them  in  her  hand :  — 
"  and  your  crown,"  — prettily  remembering  Mr. 
Barendt. 

"  Let 's  have  a  new  one,  every  year  till  we 
get  tired  !  "  he  answered. 

"  Time,  you  '11  wait  a  minute,"  said  Mr.  Van 
Arsdale  to  a  figure  very  old,  with  a  frightful 
scythe,  which  he  was  funnily  cautioning  every 
one  to  beware  of.  "  She  '11  be  back  directly !  " 
While  Time  and  the  rest  waited,  Mr.  Van 
Sandtvoordt,  the  editor  asked, — 

"Who  did  you  get  to  write  that  poem  for 
you?" 

"  Nobody,"  was  the  answer. 

"What!  you  don't  mean  to  claim  it?"  the 
editor  asked  again,  laughing. 

"  Colonel  Masker  ?  "    suggested  Mr.  Parsons. 

"  No,  he  went  down  to  New  York,  before  I 


122  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

got  it.  You  remember  that  tall,  sick  man,  two 
years  ago  "  — 

The  old-fashioned  sound  of  a  "stage-horn" 
here  startled  everybody  ;  and,  looking  round,  they 
saw  that  not  only  the  wife  had  not  come  back, 
but  the  husband,  too,  was  missing. 

"  There  they  go  !  Hurrah  ! "  was  the  cry 
from  the  open  windows,  through  which  many 
necks  were  stretched,  while  there  was  a  rush 
also  for  the  door. 

Mr.  Van  Arsdale  was  this  time  a  little  discon 
certed  :  "  Father  Time  was  going  to  grow  young, 
and  break  up  his  scythe,  and  lay  the  pieces  at "  — 

The  editor  broke  in :  "  Student  from  the 
academy,  isn't  he  ?  He  'd  better  be  about  it, 
I  should  say.  They  're  going  to  eat,  —  d'  ye  see 
Mr.  Van  Cortlaiidt  ?  Let  him  lay  his  pieces  at 
my  feet.  I  '11  touch  him  up  in  c  The  Mirror.' ' 

So  under  the  quiet  presidency  of  Mr.  Scher- 
merhorn's  uncle,  prompted  and  helped  by  Mr. 
Case  Barendt,  the  company  was  soon  devouring 
heartily. 

Letters  were  costly,  and  a  long  time  coming 
and  going  in  those  days ;  but  letters  enough 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  123 

came  to  Miss  Kate  Van  Cortlandt,  and  Carrie 
Duncan,  and  Mr.  Barendt,  and  Mr.  Parsons,  to 
keep  the  town  in  talking.  Editor  Van  Sandt- 
voordt,  moreover,  took  more  than  one  chance 
to  publish,  under  the  heading  of  two  Cupids, 

a  bulletin  from  the  "  Tour  of  J S ,  Esq., 

and  Mrs.  S ."     She  was  an  eager  traveller, 

and,  as  young  brides  do,  found  every  thing  fresh 
and  delightful  or  funny ;  and  he  wrote  as  if 
every  thing,  almost,  had  the  interest  of  discovery. 
Descriptions  of  people  met  and  things  seen, 
where  few,  in  that  day,  travelled  ;  sketches  from 
the  deck  of  a  packet-boat  on  the  canal ;  from  a 
stage-house  at  the  foot  of  a  hill,  or  on  a  valley's 
side ;  from  one  of  the  lesser  lakes ;  from  the 
Genesee  country,  —  showed  the  quickness  of 
Grace  Schermerhorn's  eye  and  hand.  Some 
one,  in  reading  this,  may  be  reminded  how  a  very 
dear  hand  once  did  pretty  work  of  that  sort, 
under  his  own  fond  eye,  on  just  such  a  journey. 
He  will  understand  how  the  husband  added  to 
what  she  wrote  his  postscripts,  thoughtful  or  law 
yer-like  or  wise  ;  and  illustrated  with  caricatures, 
meant  or  not  meant,  in  pen-and-ink.  So  the 


124  MR.  SCHERMEEHOEN'S 

town  got  its  glimpse  of  the  happy  life  begun 
by  John  Schermerhorn's  marriage. 

-One  of  the  freshest,  funniest,  and  most  de 
lighted  letters  was  from  Mrs.  Suydam's  house, 
in  Buffalo,  which  had  been  left  at  their  disposal, 
and  where  the  new  wife  made  her  first  experi 
ment  of  housekeeping.  Ah  !  what  a  glow  of 
delight,  what  hues  of  romance,  clothed  every 
thing !  and  how  she,  brimming  full  and  overrun- 
ning-full  of  fresh  life,  gave  life  of  every  sort, 
merry  or  pitiful,  to  all  sorts  of  things  she  wrote 
of!  But  letters  were  few  and  slow,  and  their 
townsmen  were  a  little  restless  to  have  the  trav 
ellers  home  again  ;  for  the  tide  of  interest  which 
had  gone  so  high  did  not,  we  may  be  sure,  set 
tle  suddenly  down.  The  bridesmaids  and  other 
wise  females  "  were  sure  that  Grace  would  hurry 
home  to  her  own  house."  Mr.  Cornelius  Barendt 
"knew  that  John  Schermerhorn  wouldn't  be 
long  satisfied  away  from  his  work  ;  "  and  Mr.  Par 
sons,  who  was  older,  udid  not  believe  that  his 
business  could  get  along  without  him."  Old 
Mr.  Van  Home,  the  forwarding-merchant, 
laughed  heartily  at  the  notion  of  Mrs.  Scher- 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  125 

merhorn's  or  anybody  else's  finding  any  beauty 
in  those  Western  towns,  "  He  had  been  through 
Buffalo,  when  there  was  nothing  of  it,  and  knew 
it,  ;  terrace  '  and  all.  As  for  business,  it  might 
some  day  come  along,  somewheres  after  West- 
envliet ;  but,  for  beauty,  you  might  as  well 
compare  a  muck-heap  to  a  meadow." 

If  mails  were  slow,  time  did  not  lag  to  suit  the 
loitering  of  men's  contrivances.  All  the  vaca 
tion  that  the  young  lawyer  would  allow  himself 
ran  out ;  and,  before  the  last  of  their  letters  came, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Schermerhorn  had  joined 
their  life  to  the  current  in  Westenvliet,  and 
thrown  into  it  a  great  increase  of  strength  and 
volume.  Now,  the  handsome  old  house  in  Fort 
Street  was  cheerier  and  more  elegant  than  even 
that  excellent  authority,  the  venerable  Mrs.  Mar- 
selus,  remembered  it :  it  seemed  to  take  a  new 
touch  of  beauty  daily.  Visitors  came  from  the 
neighborhood  and  from  abroad ;  and,  sometimes  to 
gether  and  sometimes  alone,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Scher 
merhorn  visited.  Sometimes,  in  walking  out,  she 
would  go  through  the  garden,  passing  his  office  ; 
and  he  would  give  her  his  arm  to  the  garden 


126  ME.  SCHERMERHOKN'S 

gate  or  into  the  street ;  or  only,  perhaps,  take  a 
flower  from  her  hand  and  pin  it  upon  her  bosom, 
as  she  went  by  his  door.  At  one  time,  he  might 
be  seen,  for  a  moment,  in  her  garden  or  conser 
vatory,  reaching  up  where  she  could  not ;  at  an 
other,  standing,  with  the  door  half-open,  while  he 
listened  to  her  music,  before  going  out,  or  at 
her  side  turning  over  the  leaves,  as  she  played. 

All  these  things  the  town  in  some  way  saw  or 
heard,  and  it  was  content  with  them. 

"  They  ought  to  be  fond  of  each  other,  and 
all  the  time  he  was  working  harder  than  ever," 
people  said. 

"  Why,  sir  !  "  said  Major  Prout,  "  I  went  into 
his  office,  t'other  day,  to  take  a  cigar  and  talk 
over  that  move  of  President  Adams,  and  what 
Clay  said  ;  and,  if  you  '11  believe  it,  somehow  he 
didn't  give  me  a  chance  to  get  out  my  flint  and 
steel,  —  positively,  he  didn't ; "  and  the  major 
laughed  approvingly. 

Every  thing  began  happily  with  them  ;  and 
as  Westenvliet,  like  most  other  places,  is  a  wise 
place,  and  draws  conclusions,  it  did  not  fail  to 
mark  that  the  Schermerhorns,  who  belonged  to 


MARRIAGE  AND  WIDOWHOOD.  127 

it  and  brightened  its  life,  were  of  account  in  the 
greater  world  outside.  The  townsmen  saw  not 
only  the  pastoral  feet  of  honest  Rector  Digges 
wearing  off  their  due  share  of  stone  from  the 
same  stoep  which  the  reverend  Petrus  Van 
Emerle  trod  with  friendly  and  familiar  steps  ;  but 
they  saw  that  men  of  both  parties,  from 
Governor  Clinton  down,  in  passing  through, 
exchanged  courteous  words  with  their  Mr. 
Schermerhorn,  or  sent  a  courteous  message  to 
him,  as  well  as  District- Attorney  Parsons,  Mr. 
Schermerhorn's  elder.  They  saw,  too,  that  the 
Schermerhorns  were  visited  by  old  and  influ 
ential  families  from  larger  places,  coming  in 
their  own  carriages. 

Most  of  the  townspeople  might  be  unable  to 
understand  how  a  rich  young  man,  of  Westen- 
vliet  birth  and  belonging,  and  married  to  a  very 
lovely  wife,  —  being  also  rich  enough  to  do  any 
thing  or  nothing,  as  he  chose,  —  should  choose 
to  do  so  very  hard  head-work,  and  should  exult 
in  it,  as  their  young  Mr.  Schermerhorn,  before 
their  own  eyes,  assuredly  did.  So,  too,  much 
of  Grace  Schermerhorn's  light  and  dainty  ele- 


128  ME.  SCHERMEEHORN'S 

gance  was  of  course  lost  upon  the  comfortable 
burgesses  and  their  wives  and  daughters,  who 
made  up  a  large  part  of  the  solid  population  of 
the  towji ;  but  the  young  husband  and  wife 
were  generally  accepted  as  a  credit  and  orna 
ment  to  Westenvliet.  The  class  that  here,  as 
elsewhere,  did  the  general  reflecting  and  moral 
izing,  like  Major  Prout  and  his  associates  and 
Dr.  Campbell ;  and  the  distributors  of  general 
opinion,  such  as  Mr.  Van  Home  and  others, 
who,  though  not  absolutely  within,  were  some 
times  inside  and  sometimes  outside  the  nar 
rower  arctic  circle  of  society ;  and  the  men 
that  gave  a  kindly  turn  to  every  thing,  like  Mr. 
Case  Barendt,  —  all  agreed  about  the  Schermer- 
horns.  Such  men  as  Mr.  Henry,  the  tavern- 
keeper  and  stage-coach  proprietor,  who  stood  for 
some  hours  daily  at  the  corner  by  the  Commer 
cial  Hotel  (not  his  own  house)  discussing  and 
interpreting  the  floating  news  and  opinion, 
strengthened  and  spread  the  general  estimate ; 
for  people  of  all  sorts  and  conditions,  passing  at 
that  corner,  took  severally,  there,  their  shares  of 
the  gossip  and  politics,  just  as  in  front  of  Van 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  129 

Zandt's  bakery  they  breathed  the  moist,  sweet 
smell  of  fresh  bread  and  cake. 

"Rising  man?"  said  Mr.  Van  Home.  "Of 
course  he's  a  rising  man!  Where  a  man  has 
got  good  abilities  and  every  kind  of  a  chance, 
and  sets  a  mark  for  himself  and  works  straight 
on,  he 's  going  to  get  it !  " 

"  The  greatest  ornament  of  this  town  !  "  said 
Major  Prout ;  "  and  was  there  ever  another  such 
a  little  lady  as  our  Mrs.  Grace?  Every  thing 
she  does  as  prettily  as  if  she  'd  been  born  to  do 
nothing  else ! " 

Mr.  Case  Barendt  said,  —  but  this  not  at 
street  corners,  of  course,  —  only  to  such  friends 
as  Mr.  Parsons,  —  "  Wasn't  it  a  good  day  when 
those  two  fell  in  love?" 

Mr.  Henry  put  the  case  in  this  light,  among 
others,  "  From  all  he  could  make  out,  it  was  their 
Mr.  Schermerhorn  when  a  thing  was  to  be  just 
right.  There  were  older  heads,  there  was 
Whiteside,  great  lawyers  and  all  that,  on  that 
Bridge  case  ;  but,  after  all  said,  it  was  Schermer 
horn  was  working  up  the  law." 

So,  with  many  different  voices,  public  opinion 

uttered  itself  pretty  harmoniously. 
6* 


130  MR.  SCHERMEKHOEN'S 

Does  any  one  remember  the  liveliness  of  that 
winter?  and  how  the  happy,  broad-browed, 
true-eyed,  and  pleasant-voiced  young  thing  (as 
she  was),  Grace  Schermerhorn,  gave  ever  new 
pleasure  and  received  new  praise  as  a  hostess  at 
her  own  house  and  a  guest  at  other  peoples'  ? 
Can  any  one  recall  John  Schermerhorn,  as  he 
might  often  have  been  seen  for  part  of  an  even 
ing,  at  one  of  the  hearty,  hospitable  gatherings 
of  that  winter,  standing  in  a  doorway  (or  a  win 
dow  or  a  corner,  it  might  be),  the  centre  of  a 
group  of  the  wiser  men,  or  the  thinking  men  (or 
whatever  they  counted  themselves),  or  talking 
with  two  or  three  lively  ladies ;  his  great  black 
head  and  deep-looking  eyes,  and  the  smile  that 
now  and  then  went  quietly  over  all  his  face  ? 
If  any  one  recalls  him,  he  will  remember  how 
it  was  said  that  Mr.  Schermerhorn,  wherever 
he  was  and  with  whomever  talking,  was  con 
scious  of  his  wife's  presence,  and  drawing  a 
quiet  delight  from  it.  And  who  cannot  remem 
ber  that  lovely  glance  of  Grace  Schermerhorn, 
now  and  then,  to  where  her  husband  stood ;  and 
how  she  danced  and  talked  very  often  for  him, 


MARRIAGE  AND  WIDOWHOOD.  131 

though  not  very  often  with  him?  And  yet, 
withal,  neither  showed  any  foolish  weakness. 

Ah  !  how  prettily  (we  will  not  say  witchingly, 
for  there  was  no  trick  in  it),  and  with  what  a 
modest  dignity,  she  went  through  the  cotillon 
or  the  country  dance  with  Major  Prout,  or 
District-Attorney  Parsons,  or  the  Honorable 
Mr.  Gourgas,  or  honest  Mr.  Case  Barendt,  or 
any  one  !  and  how  kindly  she  complimented  the 
more  ambitious  dancers  among  the  gallant  bach 
elors  or  sprightly  married  men,  so  that  they 
might  almost  think  that  not  one  of  their  strong 
or  limber  flings,  or  sweeps,  or  twirls  in  the  Eng 
lish  hornpipe,  or  Scotch  or  Virginia  reel,  had 
gone  unseen  by  all  bright  eyes,  or  had  failed  to 
be  appreciated ! 

So  the  winter  went  on  ;  those  hearty,  old-fash 
ioned  parties  growing  thicker  and  brighter,  like 
shooting-stars,  as  Christmas  with  its  attendant 
holidays  drew  near.  The  town  was  too  small, 
of  course,  for  more  than  one  uppermost  society ; 
and,  in  that  one,  religion  made  no  barriers. 
Our  good,  old-fashioned  "  Reformed  Protestant 
Dutch  "  folk  (to  use  their  own  religious  desig- 


132  MB.  SCHEKMEKHORN'S 

« 

nation)  were  a  comfortable,  friendly  race,  with 
nothing  of  that  rancorous,  pharisaical  bigotry 
that  marks  certain  other  religious  bodies  of  the 
time,  —  the  Donatists  and  Pelagians  and  Mon- 
tanists,  for  example.  As  their  first  hymn  had 
for  one  of  its  titles,  in  the  index,  "  The  good  old 
way,"  and  its  first  stanza  started  off  from  the 
words  "  Substantial  comfort ;  "  and  as  they  had 
thirty  or  forty  or  whatever  number  of  stanzas 
in  their  hymns,  set  off  into  five,  or  six,  or  seven 
parts,  to  take  them  leisurely,  —  so  were  they 
not  disinclined  to  take  all  comfortable  things 
comfortably.  They  had  set  up  New  Year's  Day 
for  sending  gifts  and  drinking  punch  at  every 
body's  house ;  and  if  they  had  abolished  the 
sacredness  of  Easter  and  Christmas  and 
Twelfth  Day  and  .Whitsuntide,  and  the  rest  of 
the  great  Church-days,  still  they  had  indulgently 
suffered  the  jovial  keeping-up  of  holidays  at  the 
old  times  in  one  shape  or  other  to  linger,  with 
such  old  names  as  Paas  and  Pinkster,  among 
themselves  and  their  negroes.  Moreover,  no 
true  Dutchman  was  ever  known  to  decline  a 
Christmas  present  on  the  ground  of  its  not  com- 


MARRIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  133 

ing  on  the  right  day.  So,  except  in  that  experi 
ence  with  the  Puritans  in  Holland,  they  were 
always  an  easy  race  to  get  along  with.  They 
were  of  old  ever  friendly  to  the  Church  of  Eng 
land,  and  used  to  pique  themselves  on  having 
a  liturgy  and  the  Apostles'  Creed  themselves. 
Now,  good  society,  having  by  that  sense  which 
accepts  axioms  taken  the  young  Mrs.  Schermer- 
horn  for  a  becoming  leader,  Dutchmen  and 
Churchmen,  and  whoever  else  were  of  "  position," 
mingled  in  honor  of  her,  and  for  their  own  sake, 
parties  and  sleigh-rides ;  and  combined,  of  course, 
in  occasional  public  "  entertainments,"  for  various 
ends.  If  there  had  been  any  religious  jarring, 
the  foot-quickening  violin,  or  concert  of  violin 
and  flute,  or  of  violin,  flute,  and  piano,  would 
have  made  for  peace ;  and  the  promiscuous,  fly 
ing  feet  of  all  the  fashion  and  elegance  and 
merriment  of  Westenvliet  would  have  danced 
over  and  brushed  out  all  unsubstantial  lines 
of  separation. 

So  that  pleasant  winter  sped,  till  grave  and 
sober  Lent  came  in,  just  when  Thrift  was  ready 
to  side  with  Religion  in  slackening  the  gayeties. 


134  MR.   SCHERMERHORN'S 

And  the  young  wife  was  growing  better  known 
and  better  liked  all  the  time ;  and  everybody 
was  saying  that  John  Schermerhorn  was  worth 
half  as  much  again,  since  he  was  married.  And 
who  does  not  recollect  how  pleased  the  uncle, 
Mr.  Simon  Van  Cortlandt,  was  (and  every  one 
else,  except,  perhaps,  Mr.  Coerlies  and  his 
likes)  with  "little  Gracie's  round  of  cripples 
and  widows  "  ?  Had  any  one  ever  expected  be 
fore  to  see  John  Schermerhorn  going  the  same 
round,  although  he  had  always  been  ready  to 
put  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  with  a  little  joke, 
when  good  people  asked  him  for  charity  ?  Then, 
too,  what  a  pretty  story  that  was  about  Grace 
Schermerhorn  learning  her  husband's  profession  ! 
He  never  heard  a  word  from  her  about  the  law, 
after  he  had  checked  her  ambition,  one  day,  by 
telling  her  that  "  one  lawyer  in  the  family  was 
enough,"  till,  in  the  course  of  two  or  three 
months,  he  met,  in  his  own  parlors,  one  after 
another,  so  many  white-leathered  volumes  of 
law-books,  from  Blackstone  to  Chitty  and  Rawle, 
all  bearing  his  friend  Parsons's  name,  that  he 
could  not  hinder  himself  from  finding  out,  at 


MAEEIAGE   AND  WIDOWHOOD.  135 

last,  how  his  own  little  wife  had  grown  as  pro 
ficient  in  the  law  as  ever  was  Bassanio's  Portia ; 
•and  then  how  glad  he  was  of  it !  and  how  proud 
of  her,  when  she  said,  "  And  we  're  only  '  one 
lawyer  in  the  family,'  after  all,  are  we  ?  " 

Then  spring  began  to  try  its  breath  on  grass- 
plots  and  trees  in  the  town,  and  the  river  to  show 
in  its  reflection  the  greening,  conscious-looking 
clumps  of  willows,  and  boys  to  play  marbles  and 
peg-top  on  planking  and  brick-walks  and  flag 
ging-stones,  all  almost  before  any  one  was  ready 
for  them.  In  the  "  slack  "  time  between  the  two 
seasons,  active-minded  young  people  —  and  es 
pecially  of  these  some  who  had  been  young  a 
good  while  —  had  begun  shaping  out  a  little 
mystery.  They  said  that  in  the  midst  of  the 
late  gayeties,  and  still  more  since  the  season 
was  over,  the  young  wife  had  been  often 
seen  with  her  eyes  fixed,  and  her  thoughts 
so  far  withdrawn  that  it  was  necessary  to  re 
call  her.  Then,  with  a  laugh  more  winning 
even  than  that  of  old,  she  exclaimed  at  her  own 
forgetfulness.  Now  it  could  not  be  (they 
said)  that  at  those  times  she  was  always  think- 


136  MR.  SCHERMEEHORN'S 

ing  about  her  husband,  though  it  must  be  con 
fessed  that  never  were  husband  and  wife  more 
taken  up  with  each  other,  —  and  in  the  right' 
way ;  but  this  looked  as  if  she  had  some  pre-* 
sentiment  or  foreboding.  It  was  said  that  her 
mother  or  father  had  been  subject  to  some 
sort  of  "  melancholy."  These  wise  conjectures 
found  no  favor  with  Gracie's  chief  friends,  such 
as  Miss  Carrie  Duncan  and  Miss  Jeanie  Yates, 
or  any  other  of  them;  and  when  they  were 
uttered,  one  evening,  at  a  sewing-party  at  good 
Mrs.  Marselus's,  Mrs.  Simon  Van  Cortlandt,  or 
Mrs.  Swart,  or  some  one  of  the  elders,  looking 
at  the  other  matrons  as  at  those  who  shared  with 

* 

her  in  the  possession  of  pass-keys  to  the  store 
houses  of  .wisdom  and  experience,  said  "  that 
was  nothing  strange,  —  that  would  all  come 
right,  by  and  by." 

Mrs.  Grace  was  out,  with  that  breathing 
spring,  showing  how  her  flower-beds  (that  after 
wards  were  so  beautiful)  were  to  be  made,  and 
putting  her  own  hand  to  many  a  creeper  or 
climbing  rose  about  the  walls  of  her  husband's 
office. 


MARRIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  137 

The  summer  went  by ;  and,  as  it  went,  the 
neighbors  had  come  to  the  understanding  that 
during  the  summer  Grace  Schermerhorn  was 
going  again  over  the  ground  of  her  happy  wed 
ding-journey  to  the  West,  and  was  to  make 
another  stay  in  Buffalo,  where  she  had  made  her 
first  glad  trial  of  housekeeping. 

As  the  season  passed,  stage-coaches  were 
driving,  with  flourishing  and  snapping  whips, 
up  to  the  doors  of  the  town's  hotels ;  the  canal 
was  thronged  with  packet-boats  and  freight- 
boats  ;  and  its  banks  lined  with  quietly  chang 
ing  little  throngs  of  on-lookers.  Then,  early  on 
one  fine  day  in  July,  when  the  neighbors  were 
congratulating  themselves  and  one  another 
that  "  there  was  not  a  much  better  place  to  be 
in,  through  the  hot  weather,  than  under  the 
trees  of  the  old  town,  because  a  breath  of  wind 
always  came  down  the  river,  of  a  summer's  day," 
a  crowd  gathered  at  the  dock,  of  a  different  hue 
from  the  common,  and  the  Schermerhorns  were 
going.  John  Schermerhorn  would  not  trust  his 
wife,  this  time,  to  a  stage-coach  for  any  part  of 
the  journey  ;  and  had  made  careful  provision,  in 


138  MR.  SCHEKMEKHORN'S 

many  ways,  for  her  comfort  and  amusement  in 
the  easier  passage  by  the  great  canal. 

Whoever  remembers  Tom  Cuiiey,  of  fifty 
years  ago,  with  his  trim  packet-boat,  and  his 
yellow  dog,  and  the  new  broom  set  up  for  a 
standard,  or  emblem,  at  what,  in  sea-phrase,  he 
called  "  the  for'ard  companion-way  ;  "  and  who 
ever  remembers  Curley's  special  fancy  for 
Westenvliet  people,  —  he  having  been  born,  or 
brought  up,  here, — will  understand  why  his 
packet,  the  "  Mary  Ellen,"  was  chosen  for  this 
four-or-five-days  voyage. 

Boats  of  all  kinds  were  passing  this  way  and 
that.  The  sun,  overhead,  was  steadily  pouring 
down  his  heat ;  while  the  valley-breeze,  below, 
was  busy,  running  through  and  scattering  it,  for 
the  comfort  of  the  townsfolk.  The  uncle,  Mr. 
Van  Cortlandt,  a  plain,  old-fashioned  gentleman, 
as  we  have  seen  him,  was  there  at  the  going  off, 
seated  comfortably  in  the  shade  of  Harvey's 
"  Great  Canal  Store."  Curley's  horses,  while 
the  packet  waited,  were  diligently  munching. 
Mrs.  Seherrnerhorn  was  already  seated,  under  a 
tiny  awning,  with  a  little  crowd  of  zealous  young 


MAERIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  139 

ladies  and  warm-hearted  matrons  near,  and  was 
giving  a  laughing  account  of  anticipated  events 
of  the  voyage.  Major  Prout  had  gallantly  car 
ried  the  lady's  shawl  on  board ;  and  while  the 
Honorable  Mr.  Gourgas  presented,  "for  Mr. 
Schermerhorn's  entertainment,  but  of  course," 
as  he  said,  "  for  Mrs.  Schermerhorn's  amuse 
ment  also,"  the  fan  which  he  had  been  using 
on  his  dignified  walk,  and  which  he  described 
as  "  a  document  issued  in  the  public  service," 
and  while  he  was  taking  his  leave,  Mr.  Case 
Barendt,  good  man,  with  a  parcel  under  one 
arm,  which  he  said  was  from  Mr.  Parsons,  who 
was  away  in  Albany,  and  a  parcel  under  the 
other  arm,  which  he  said  nothing  about,  set  him 
self  to  see  to  the  bestowal  of  some  things  of  his 
own,  and  all  the  other  things,  indeed.  Young 
James  Van  Cortlandt,  from  the  law-office,  was 
moving  about  among  the  girls  with  the  gravity 
of  a  future  counsellor. 

Mrs.  Schermerhorn  warned  Captain  Curley 
that  "  he  must  put  up  a  notice  that  his  boat  was 
full,  or  her  friends  would  never  cease  bringing 
good  things."  "  Suggested,"  said  Mr.  Van 


140  MB.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

Sandtvoord,  the  editor,  in  a  low  voice  (for  he 
was  there,  with  the  rest),  "  by  that  present  of 
Mr.  Gourgas.  Mr.  Schermerhorn  is  to  have 
that,  and  not  you,"  he  added,  as  the  busy  young 
lawyer,  last,  but  not  late,  came  up,  casting  a 
quick  glance  at  Grace,  and  with  a  determined 
holiday-look  in  his  face. 

There  was  a  little  air  stirring,  though  the  day 
was  hot ;  and  every  thing  was  pleasant.  But 
some  needless  tears  were  bursting  forth,  and 
Miss  Carrie  Duncan  was  quite  overcome.  So 
Mr.  Barendt,  with  his  cheery  voice,  began  to 
talk,  and  said  that  "  he  had  always  wondered 
how  Cowley  (wasn't  it  Cowley  ?  )  was  going  c  to 
forsake  the  ship,  and  seek  the  shore,  when  the 
winds  whistle  and  the  tempests  roar.'  He  be 
lieved  that  such  a  craft  as  Curley's  "  — 

"Did  you  say  Curley  wrote  that  poetry, 
Barendt  ?  "  asked  the  editor. 

"  Was  the  only  one  where  that  piece  of  sea 
manship  could  be  practised ;  "  and,  as  he  spoke, 
he  stepped  out  on  the  dock :  for,  though 
there  were  no  bellying  and  flapping  top-sails  to 
give  warning  of  departure,  there  had  been  a 


MAEKIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  141 

moderate  little  bustle,  and  one  helper,  at  an 
order  from  the  commander,  had  "cast  off  the 
stern-fast,"  and  another  was  leading  the  horses 
round  to  their  place. 

"  I  shall  risk  the  storm  inside,  in  such  a  case, 
Gracie,"  said  the  husband,  "  though  there  are 
Neptune's  own  steeds,  to  borrow  from,  for  the 
flight.  The  worst  storm  that  ever  blew  wouldn't 
be  so  bad  in  it  as  on  shore,  would  it  ?  " 

The  wife  laughed  at  Curley's  nags  represent 
ing  Neptune's,  and  said,  "  No :  when  you  run 
away,  we  '11  choose  a  pleasant  day  for  you,  John, 
—  not  whistling  winds  and  roaring  storms." 

"  Change  one  word,"  said  the  literary  man, 
who  had  not  heard  Curley's  warning,  "  Sorry  to 
lose  you,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  which  had  sent 
every  one  else  to  the  dock,  "  and  you  '11  make 
Barendt's  quotation  fit,  and  make  sure  of  a 
good  shelter,  too  :  '  Forsake  the  ship,  and  seek  a 
"  store." ' " 

At  this  moment,  finding  the  boat  already  in 
motion,  the  editor  cut  off  his  speech,  and  with 
pleasant  laughter  from  all  sides  he  scrambled 
out  to  the  safe  and  solid  old  town  ;  Barendt 


142  MR.   SCHEBMEBHOBN'8 

cautioning  him  that  "  4  store '  was  an  equivocal 
word,  and  he  must  be  careful  about  putting  his 
own  advice  in  practice." 

Grace  Schermerhorn  was  grave  at  the  parting. 

"  He  's  to  bring  you  back  in  time  for  that  an 
niversary,  mind !  "  said  Mr.  Barendt. 

Then  kisses  were  thrown,  and  handkerchiefs 
waved,  and  last  words  called  out ;  and  then,  with 
her  blue  eyes  dry,  the  young  wife,  like  a  sen 
sible  woman,  went  out  of  sight.  Then  our 
friends  who  were  to  stay  at  home  scattered 
slowly  in  different  directions,  fanning  them 
selves  or  wiping  their  faces. 

It  was  said  that  Mr.  Schermerhorn  could 
hardly  get  away,  even  in  the  middle  of  summer, 
and  had  made  arrangements,  a  month  since,  to 
be  brought  back,  "  post-haste,  inside  of  two  days 
and  a  half,"  as  Mr.  Barendt  expressed  it. 

Again  public  report  was  right ;  for  in  about  a 
week  Mr.  Schermerhorn,  before  any  one  was 
stirring  but  a  housemaid  or  two,  knocked  at  his 
own  door,  and  was  at  home  again  for  his  work. 
The  public  head  nodded  sagaciously  toward 
him.  "  Vacation  of  courts  gave  him,"  as  the 


MAKRIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  143 

public  voice  said,  "  no  respite  this  time,  if  it  ever 
did.  There  was  that  great  Bridge  case,  that  had 
been  on  so  long,  —  the  weight  of  it  was  going  to 
come  on  him ;  and  that  case  of  Brierly  Brothers,  of 
Albany,  against  Johnson,  where  there  was  great 
cheating  somewhere,  and  great  perjury  some 
where,  —  he  was  to  work  that  up.  White  side 
and  these  old  lawyers  could  afford  to  lie  off,  when 
they  had  such  a  man  with  them."  His  ways  were 
so  well  established  now,  and  so  well  known,  that 
his  neighbors  boarded  him  for  information  only 
when  he  was  met  in  the  street.  The  town 
knew  on  the  first  day  that  he  had  left  his  wife 
in  excellent  spirits  and  well.  The  lawyer  had 
not  lost,  and  was  apparently  determined  not  to 
lose,  the  good  habits  which  he  had  been  growing 
into  since  his  marriage.  Not  only  he  sought  out 
his  wife's  beneficiaries,  as  before  ;  but  in  the 
evening,  by  snatching  short  visits  to  one  house 
and  another,  where  the  families,  after  the  neigh 
borly  Dutch  custom,  were  all  to  be  found  on 
their  front  stoeps,  in  those  pleasant  hours  ha  kept 
everybody  saying  what  a  delightful  man  he  was, 
if  he  could  only  find  time  for  society.  He  talked 


144  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

of  himself  like  an  old  man :  he  did  not  profess 
to  be  overwhelmed  with  work.  "  Every  man  with 
a  business,"  he  said,  "  was  busy,  if  he  meant  to 
do  it ;  and  it  was  harder  to  hang  heavy  round 
one's  self  with  nothing  to  do."  He  expected  to 
be  coming  and-  going,  now  and  then,  between 
Buffalo  and  home,  and  to  bring  his  wife  back 
in  a  month  or  two.  He  did  not  know  whether 
to  wish  for  the  telegraph  that  carried  messages 
from  Paris  to  Strasburg  in  six  minutes  and  a 
half  or  not :  our  means  of  moving  our  bodies  are 
so  slow,  that  we  might  suffer  more  than  .we 
should  gain.  Mr.  Van  Home  said  "  that  it  was 
very  well  that  young  man  had  plenty  of  work : 
if  he. hadn't,  he  'd  be  as  crazy  as  a  loon." 

Suddenly  it  was  found,  one  day,  that  he  had 
gone  in  great  haste  and  without  warning.  Mr. 
Henry,  the  stage-coach  proprietor,  had  taken 
more  pains  than  he  had  ever  taken  in  his  life 
to  help  him  through  to  Buffalo,  and  believed 
that  there  would  be  no  mistake.  So  the  friends 
and  public  waited  for  news.  Nothing  was 
heard  from  him  or  of  him :  people  grew  anxious. 
Mr.  Van  Home,  at  Mr.  Henry's  corner,  tried  to 


MAREIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  145 

laugh  it  off.  "  These  women  are,  pleasant  play 
mates,"  he  said  ;  "  but  they  waste  a  great  deal 
of  a  business  man's  time.  He 's  so  taken  up  with 
his  wife  now,  that  he  can't  find  a  chance  to 
write.  They  're  making  sketches  of  Buffalo." 

The  broom-corn  was  looking  its  best,  in  the 
meadows ;  cherries  were  gone ;  strawberries 
were  gone  ;  people  were  eating  early  apples : 
and  no  news  came  from  week  to  week,  and, 
stranger  still,  no  answers  came  to  letters.  Kind- 
hearted  neighbors  could  not  make  themselves 
or  one  another  believe  that  "  no  news  was  good 
news." 

Young  Jemmy  Van  Cortlandt,  who  was  in  Mr. 
Schermerhorn's  office,  knew  nothing  whatever 
of  happenings  or  plans  ;  Mr.  Case  Barendt  knew 
no  more ;  Mr.  Van  Cortlandt,  the  uncle,  had  no 
information ;  Mr.  Coerlies  assured  every  one 
that  he  had  no  means  of  intelligence :  no  one 
was  wiser  in  the  matter  than  another.  As  time 
went  on,  however,  the  general  feeling,  instead 
of  growing  heavier,  grew  lighter ;  for  it  was 
reasoned  that  the  likelihood  was  that  John 
Scherinerhorrj  had  been  waiting  to  bring  his 
7 


146  MB.   SCHEEMERHORN'S 

wife  back.  Soon,  the  good-natured  citizens  be 
gan  to  watch  the  stage-coaches  and  canal-packets, 
and  to  hold  occasional  conferences  with  Mr. 
Henry,  the  owner  of  the  lines  of  stage-coaches; 
caught  Tom  Curley  in  passing,  and  John  Hen 
derson,  and  Sam  Adams,  and  Harry  Adams, 
and  other  masters  of  boats  on  the  canal,  and 
gathered  from  them  what  information  they 
could ;  but  nothing  nearer  to  the  point  was 
gained  than  that  "  it  had  been  a  very  healthy 
season  all  the  way  out  West." 

Mr.  Van  Arsdale,  the  successful  contriver  of 
shows,  gave  out,  hesitatingly,  that  he  thought 
"he  would  get  up  a  little  something  for 
the  Schermerhorns'  coming  back.  The  Arion 
Sodality  would  help." 

"  I  think  I  wouldn't,  this  time,"  Mr.  Case 
Barendt  said,  when  he  heard  it. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mr.  Van  Arsdale,  "  I  don't  mean 
a  show,  not  a  public  show :  they  wouldn't  like 
that,  of  course." 

"  I  think  I  wouldn't,  this  time,"  Mr.  Barendt 
repeated,  in  a  tone  perhaps  more  serious  than  he 
intended. 


MARRIAGE  AND  WIDOWHOOD.  147 

Nothing  more  was  said.  The  public  feeling, 
having  nothing  to  support  it,  changed  from  hope 
to  fear. 

Whether  there  be  ways  of  touching,  by  the 
huge  effort  of  one  soul,  or  of  drawing,  by  its  in 
tense,  craving  need  of  sympathy,  a  kindred  soul, 
may  not  be  said  or  gainsaid,  with  such  knowl 
edge  as  we  have  ;  but,  without  written  or  spoken 
word  from  Buffalo,  a  chill  began  to  creep 
through  the  summer's  air,  and  a  gloom  began 
to  darken  the  bright  sky.  Carrie  Duncan  grew 
fairly  into  a  state  of  terror,  and  sought  of 
elder  people  everywhere,  from  Rector  Digges 
to  Mrs.  Marselus  and  Mrs.  Swart,  comfort  from 
their  experience.  Major  Prout  was  not  seen  in 
his  usual  walks ;  but  Mr.  Case  Barendt,  kind- 
hearted  man,  while  he  rebuked  alarm  and  anxi 
ety,  looked  really  sad  and  worn  himself. 

"  He  hadn't  heard  any  thing,"  he  said,  "  in  all 
these  three  weeks,  or  more :  perhaps  there  was 
nothing  to  write  ;  and  then  a  good  deal  might 
have  been  going  on  that  people  here,  of  course, 
could  not  know  about." 

It  was  on  a  Saturday  evening,  in  October,  that 


148  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

Mr.  Barendt,  with  District-Attorney  Parsons 
(as  he  then  was),  was  walking  through  Hague 
Street,  when,  at  the  corner  where  Fort  Street 
crosses  and  the  dim  oil-lamp  showed  little  but 
itself,  the  two  stopped  to  talk,  though  the  night 
was  drizzling  as  well  as  dark.  It  was  a  moment 
only  before  Barendt  —  as  the  gleam  of  a  lantern, 
moving  slowly,  was  seen  a  little  way  off — 
almost  thrust  his  friend  away,  saying  abruptly, 
"Good-night!"  and  hurried  up  the  cross  street 
toward  the  church.  Mr.  Parsons  followed  him 
fast,  and  called  after  him,  but  could  not  over 
take  him,  and  soon  came  to  a  silent  stand,  as  he 
could  see,  in  the  dim,  drizzling  rain,  that  the 
other  had  come  to  a  stand  before  him.  Close 
at  hand  might  be  seen  in  the  gloom  the  still 
more  gloomy  shape  of  a  hearse.  Noah  Easterly 
was  the  only  undertaker  in  the  town. 

The  church-yard  gate  was  open :  a  misty  light 
shone  through.  "  Barendt !  "  said  the  attorney, 
in  a  hurried  whisper  ;  but  no  answer  came.  At 
the  same  moment,  as  if  moved  by  a  single  im 
pulse,  the  two  went  forward,  and,  taking  their 
places  at  each  post  of  the  gateway,  stood  side 


MARRIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  149 

by  side,  touching  each  other,  but  without  a 
word.  Inside,  there  was  enough  to  fix  all  -their 
attention.  Three  or  four  persons,  among  whom 
the  white,  glimmering  robes  of  the  clergyman 
could  be  seen  by  the  lantern,  had  just  reached 
a  grave  in  which  a  light  was  hanging,  and  from 
which  shovels  full  of  earth  were  still  hurriedly 
thrown  upon  a  heap. 

"  Stop !  stop  !  You  're  deep  enough  !  You 
must  be  deep  enough !  "  a  voice  cried,  evidently 
broken  with  grief ;  and  the  grave-digger,  putting 
out  his  shovel  before  him,  came  forth. . 

Case  Barendt  laid  hold  of  his  friend,  as  if 
he  would  drag  him  to  the  ground.  "  This  is 
Simon  Van-  Arsdale's  pageant !  "  he  whispered 
hoarsely  in  his  ear.  "  Oh  !  to  think  of  it !  " 

"  Man  that  is  born  of  a  woman,"  said  the  priest, 
"hath  but  a  short  time  to  live."  Poor  Barendt 
sank  —  almost  dropped  —  upon  the  wet  soil,  and 
bowed  himself  over  it.  Presently,  with  a  low 
moan,  he  started  up,  and  squeezing  Parsons's 
hand  hurried  away. 

"  Not  to-night ! "  he  said  to  his  friend,  who 
followed  and  tried  to  speak  to  him.  "  I  can't, 


150  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

to-night !  "  and  he  was  soon  lost  in  the  rain  and 
darkness.  Mr.  Parsons  went  quickly  back  ;  and, 
standing  in  the  gate-way,  listened,  as  the  commit 
tal  to  the  earth  and  the  prayers  followed.  The 
lantern  showed  the  pinched  face  of  Easterly, 
the  sexton ;  and  the  book  and  features  of 
the  rector,  reading.  The  person  who  had  be 
fore  spoken  did  not  stand  always  still,  with  the 
rest,  but  (as  well  as  could  be  seen  by  the  nar 
row  light)  walked  to  and  fro  short  distances, 
and  seemed  to  wring  his  hands.  The  Burial 
Service,  meantime,  went  on  with  a  steady  flow, 
as  of  a  stream  of  deep  love  and  hope  and  solace. 
So  intensely  solemn  and  pathetic  was  the-  scene 
that  the  unbidden  on-looker,  at  the  gateway, 
was  almost  caught  by  the  funeral  company  com 
ing  away;  although  they  had  stayed  till  the 
last  sod  had  been  laid  upon  the  grave,  and  the 
whole  smoothed  over.  There  were  but  four  of 
them,  with  the  grave-digger ;  and,  in  a  moment 
more,  the  shutting  of  the  churchyard  gate 
might  have  been  heard,  and  the  lantern,  with 
the  hearse,  moved  away. 

The  next  day,  Sunday,  was  a  rainy  day  also, 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  151 

and  all  trees  were  dripping,  and  the  bells  had  a 
heavy  sound.  At  St.  Paul's,  the  sexton  was 
not  to  be  seen ;  his  place  being  taken  by  an 
occasional  helper,  and  he  could  not  answer  any 
questions.  Mrs.  Easterly  was  ready  to  tell  all 
she  knew,  and  added  something  to  the  material 
for  conjecture,  but  made  nothing  clear.  "  Her 
husband,"  she  said,  "  had  been  called  away  hur 
riedly,  by  the  rector,  the  evening  before,  and 
had  not  since  come  back.  He  had  sent  word 
that  he  should  be  gone  twenty-four  hours." 

Every  thing  helped  to  fill  people  with  a 
startled  craving  to  know  what  had  happened 
and  was  happening. 

The  church  had  a  great  many  people  in  it, 
notwithstanding  the  weather ;  some  —  as  Mr. 
Cornelius  Barendt,  of  the  Dutch  Choir  —  be 
side  the  regular  worshippers.  Over  them  all, 
there  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  expectancy,  as  one 
might  see  by  the  many  looks  turned  backwards 
toward  the  door.  Mr.  Barendt  kept  his  eyes 
straight  before  him.  Perhaps  there  had  been 
no  change  in  his  dress ;  but,  somehow,  to  the 
first  glance,  he  gave  the  impression  of  being  in 


152  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

deep  mourning.-  The  state  of  the  congregation 
seemed  almost  to  infect  Rector  Digges  himself, 
or  else  some  weight  and  constraint  were  upon 
him.  His  voice  was  not  like  itself;  and,  in 
the  giving  out  of  the  First  Lesson,  it  was  ob 
served  that  he  first  said,  "  the  twentieth  verse 
of  the  fifteenth  chapter,"  —  from  the  Burial 
Service.  Nothing  came  for  all  the  glances 
turned  to  the  door.  The  services  went  through, 
and  there  was  a  sermon,  perhaps  more  than 
usually  solemn ;  but  the  only  specially  noticea 
ble  thing  was  the  putting  off  of  some  little  soci 
ety  or  other,  which  was  to  have  met,  during  the 
week,  at  the  parsonage. 

As  Mr.  Cornelius  Barendt  walked  toward  the 
door,  with  Mr.  Parsons,  he  raised  his  eyes  once, 
and  looked  earnestly  toward  the  corner  of  the 
church  where  the  Schermerhorns  had  their 
usual  place.  No  one  was  there. 

Many  of  the  more  prominent  ladies  walked 
up  to  the  vestry-room,  and  waited  in  the  neigh 
borhood.  Many  women,  of  less  account  in  the 
community,  and  some  men,  stood  quietly  further 
off. 


MARRIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  153 

Few  people  hurried  away.  There  was  a  gen 
eral  disposition  to  linger  in  the  porch  and  about 
it.  A  good  many  went  straight  to  the  newly 
made  grave.  Everywhere,  knots  of  people  were 
talking  earnestly  ;  and,  though  with  suppressed 
voices,  yet  uttering  words  and  names  which 
showed  how  all  thoughts  were  occupied.  Mr. 
Simon  Voorhies  and  Mr.  Van  Cortlandt  had 
come  round  from  the  Dutch  Church,  and  there 
was  presently  a  gathering  of  people  about  them, 
giving  and  seeking  information,  or  listening; 
because  Mr.  Van  Cortlandt  was  John  Schermer- 
horn's  uncle.  The  uncle  was  anxiously  ques 
tioning  ;  "  for,"  as  he  said,  "  the  news  had  only 
just  reached  him  that  somebody  was  buried  in 
St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  in  the  night ;  and  it  was 
said  that  his  nephew  had  come  last  evening 
some  time,  and  had  brought  a  dead  body  with 
him ;  and  it  was  told  him  it  must  be  John's 
wife !  He  himself  would  wait  to  see  Rector 
Digges,  for  he  was  all  in  a  whirl  about  this 
dreadful  thing.  He  didn't  wish  to  go  round 
to  John's  with  this  impression,  if  there  was  a 
chance  of  it's  not  being  true."  He  hurriedly 

7* 


154  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

addressed  himself  to  Mr.  Barendt,  who  was 
coming  out. 

Mr.  Barendt,  who  had  tried  to  pass  on  with 
out  stopping,  was  pale  and  changed.  "  He  could 
tell  nothing,"  he  said,  "  except  that  there  was  a 
funeral  in  the  churchyard  the  night  before.  He 
had  seen  it,  and  Mr.  Parsons.  No  doubt,  —  at 
least  he  feared,  —  it  was  as  people  said,  —  there 
was  one  mourner,  and  he  looked  in  the  dark 
and  rain  like  John  Schermerhorn." 

Mr.  Barendt  released  himself  as  quickly  as 
he  could,  and  walked  away,  with  a  single  and 
hasty  side-glance  at  the  newly  made  grave.  Mr. 
Parsons,  who  stayed,  could  add  nothing  to  the 
short  story. 

The  rector  was  not  to  be  found  in  the  vestry- 
room,  where  Mr.  Van  Cortlandt,  with  his 
friends,  sought  him ;  and  the  different  little 
groups  which  had  been  waiting  for  him  began 
to  disperse.  He  had  evidently  found  some  other 
way  than  his  usual  way  of  leaving  the  church. 
Inquiry  at  the  house  brought  no  better  result. 
He  had  gone,  it  was  said,  to  visit  a  sick  parish 
ioner,  and  it  was  quite  uncertain  when  he  would 


MARRIAGE  AND  WIDOWHOOD.  155 

be  back.  Could  this  be  Mr.  Schermerliorn  ?  The 
uncle  stood  as  if  he  knew  not  what  to  do  ;  then 
consulted  his  companions.  "  The  case  was  most 
extraordinary.  His  nephew  had  not  communi 
cated  with  him  ;  but  he  could  not  bear  the 
thought  of  failing  in  his  duty  to  poor  John,  if 
what  they  feared  was  true:  he  might  be  in 
dreadful  need  of  comfort."  It  was  agreed  that 
the  two  should  bear  him  company  to  John 
Schermerhorn's  house,  to  which,  of  himself,  he 
was  extremely  reluctant  to  go.  The  distance, 
as  we  found  it,  when  the  way  so  little  while 
ago  was  traversed  by  the  happy  bridal  company, 
is  but  short.  They  found  the  house  unchanged. 
Nothing,  as  they  learned,  was  known  there  of 
the  family :  the  maid,  who  answered  Mr.  Van 
Cortlandt's  questions,  looked  a  little  anxious 
or  frightened ;  but  Mr.  Schermerhorn  had  not 
been  there,  nor  sent  any  word.  "  Oh,  if  it's 
only  a  mistake,  after  all !  "  the  uncle  said.  Mr. 
Voorhies  thought  it  must  be  a  mistake.  Mr. 
Parsons's  face  lighted  up,  but  fell  instantly.  "  I 
hope  it  may  be  so  !  "  he  said.  Then  they  sepa 
rated,  in  the  assurance  that  every  thing  must 
be  soon  known. 


156 


The  day  passed  on  ;  and  the  only  change  made 
was  that  Easterly,  the  sexton,  had  come  home, 
after  having  been  employed  by  Dominie  Digges 
to  take  back,  thirty  miles  or  so,  the  man  that 
came  with  Mr.  Schermerhorn.  The  sexton 
wished  to  talk  ("  in  a  proper  way,"  he  said  )  ;  for 
he  seemed  to  feel  that  he  had  been  losing  great 
opportunities,  and  he  fully  confirmed  the  story 
that  Mr.  Schermerhorn  had  buried  his  wife,  the 
night  before,  by  lamplight.  "  There  never  was 
anybody  in  such  a  way  as  that  man !  Where 
the  poor  man  was  now,"  the  sexton  assured  the 
inquirer,  "he  could  not  tell  more  than  the 
dead."  One  foreboding  thing  —  as  good  to  him, 
and  most  of  his  hearers,  as  a  bit  of  science  or 
philosophy  —  the  sexton,  in  the  shape  of  a 
question  or  a  reminder,  generally  added  to  his 
gloomy  story.  >4  Did  not  everybody  remember  " 
(or  "everybody  must  remember")  "how  the 
bell  was  stopped  short  when  he  was  ringing  on 
the  wedding-day  ?  Now,  of  course,  in  this  coun 
try,  at  this  time  o'  day,"  he  said, "  we  ain't  igno 
rant,  enough  to  suppose  that  such  a  thing  as 
that  would  make  any  difference  ;  but  there  it 


MARRIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  157 

z's,  and  I  put  it  to  you,  to  show  the  bearing. 
Why,  I  said,  the  very  time  it  happened,  it 
wasn't  the  right  thing." 

This  story,  like  all  the  rest,  was  soon  told 
everywhere,  and  passed  for  what  each  one  might 
think  it  worth. 

That  evening,  Mr.  Case  Barendt  was  sitting 
at  Mr.  Parsons's,  engaged  in  slow  and  gloomy 
talk  with  him,  when  both  started  unnaturally, 
and  were  silent  at  the  ringing  of  the  house- 
bell.  Not  long  after,  a  weak  or  uncertain  hand 
seemed  to  be  trying  to  open  the  door  of  the 
room  in  which  they  were.  They  looked  at 
each  other  gravely ;  and  presently  Mr.  Parsons 
went  and  opened  it  wide.  A  sad.  sight  showed 
itself.  It  was  poor  Mr.  Schermerhorn,  pale  and 
shrunken  and  shivering.  He  hesitated  a  mo 
ment,  as  if  at  seeing  two  ;  then-  came  in,  fas 
tened  his  sunken  eyes  on  Mr.  Barendt,  and, 
without  uttering  a  word  of  salutation  or  ad 
dress,  slowly  shook  his  head,  with  a  look  so 
utterly  woful  that  his  friend  as  silently  bent, 
over,  and  hid  his  face  in  his. hands. 

"  Parsons !  "    said  the   sad   visitor,    "  only   a 


158  MR.   SCHERMERHORN'S 

moment !  I  am  going  away :  you  must  take 
my  cases,  or  arrange  about  them." 

His  brother  lawyer  expressed  his  willingness 
to  do  anything.  "  But,  John!  not  long?"  he 
asked,  tenderly  taking  the  desolate  man's  hand. 
"  Mr.  Whiteside  is  under  the  doctor's  orders, 
and  would  rather  have  that  Mynders  case  "  — 

"  Well,  well,  my  dear  friend!  "  the  other  said, 
"  manage  every  thing.  I  've  written  :  Barendt 
will  read  the  letters  over,  and  send  them. 
Good-by !  " 

He  set  his  two  hands  on  Barendt's  shoulders, 
without  speaking,  and  with  his  head  upon  his 
breast ;  then  wrung  his  other  friend's  hand,  and 
instantly  was  gone.  A  moment  after,  Mr.  Par 
sons  started  up,  with  some  broken  sentence,  as 
if  he  would  stop  him.  "  No,  no  I  "  said  Case 
Barendt :  "  we  '11  attend  to  every  thing  the  best 
way  we  can."  And  so  it  was  understood  be 
tween  them. 

"  I  don't  like  the  look  of  things,"  Barendt 
said.  "  I  wish  Gertrude  had  come  with  him." 

All  that  day,  Rector  Digges  secured  to  him 
self  entire  seclusion,  except  during  his  services. 


MAKBIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  159 

The  next  day,  he  went  of  himself,  sadly,  to  Mr. 
Van  Cortlandt's  house.  It  may  have  been  his 
own  weather  that  he  carried  with  him ;  but,  if 
so,  Mr.  Van  Cortlandt  felt  it,  for  he  confirmed 
the  rector's  assurance  that  it  was  cold.  The 
short  account  of  all  that  had  happened  was 
soon  given.  The  nephew  had  come,  on  Saturday 
evening,  in  a  dreadful  state  of  wretchedness  arid 
almost  despair,  bringing  his  wife's  dead  body. 
In  the  hurry  and  misery,  the  best  thing  seemed 
to  be  to  do  as  he  wished  about  the  burying :  the 
clergyman,  therefore,  had  taken  all  responsibil 
ity.  As  for  poor  Schermerhorn,  the  lonely,  be 
reaved  man  had  already  set  out  for  Europe  ; 
and  his  sister,  Mrs.  Suydam,  with  her  chil 
dren  (as  the  uncle  would  hear  from  herself),  was 
to  join  him  there. 

This  gloomy  story  Mr.  Van  Cortlandt  heard  as 
a  respectable  kinsman  of  good  feeling  might. 
"  So  John  is  gone  !  "  he  said.  "  Then  there  's 
nothing  we  can  do.  I  '11  write  to  Gertrude,  of 
course.  What  could  poor  little  Gracie  have 
died  of?  Childbed  fever,  I  suppose." 

The  rector  added  a  little  to  his  story  :  "  Mr. 


160 


Schermerhorn  said  '  he  must  work  out  this  ter 
rible  lot  by  himself.'  I  said,  4  Of  course,  you  '11 
remember  what  the  Holy  Ghost  came  to  the 
faithful  on  Whitsunday  for,  and  abides  in  the 
Church  for  ever ;  and  that  His  name  is  "  Com 
forter."  '  He  said,  '  Oh,  yes  !  God  help  me  ! '" 
"  Then  John  '11  do  it !  "  the  uncle  said.  "  He 
always  was  so,  from  a  boy.  His  mother  was  so, 
before  him.  Gertrude  's  just  like  him." 

The   town  soon   had   the   substance    of    the 

• 

story,  to  fill  out  into  such  shape  as  it  might  be 
easily  made  to  fill.  It  was  about  the  time  of 
the  "  anniversary  "  which  Mr.  Case  Barendt  had 
proposed  to  keep  ;  and  the  passers  by  the  church 
yard  could  see,  through  the  picket-fence,  a  crown 
of  flowers,  like  that  of  the  marriage-day,  now 
laid  upon  the  fresh  grave. 

The  uncle,  with  Mr.  Barendt,  shut  up  the 
house  in  Fort  Street,  and  put  it  into  the  charge 
of  an  old  couple,  who  were  to  live  in  some  cor 
ner  of  it. 

"  When  John  comes  back,"  said  Cornelius 
Barendt,  "it  seems  to  me  we  ought  to  have 
Gertrude  here,  with  her  children.  I  wish  John 
had  a  child  of  his  own  !  " 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  161 

"  It  would  be  in  his  way,  travelling,  as  he  is," 
the  uncle  said.  "  Gertrude  had  fine  children,  — 
I  don't  know  how  many :  she  lost  some.  She 
had  fine  children." 

Cornelius  Barendt,  as  our  readers  know,  was 
an  unmarried  man  ;  but  he  said :  "  Children  are 
the  things  to  get  round  a  man's  heart.  I  be 
lieve  there 's  nothing  like  them !  and  John 
Schermerhorn  's  got  a  heart." 

Mr.  Barendt,  for  a  while,  spent  a  share  of 
every  day  in  his  friend's  forsaken  office,  and 
then  transferred  young  James  Van  Cortlandt, 
and  whatever  beside  was  needed,  to  his  own. 
Fort  Street  was  changed  still  more  by  the  re 
moval. 

From  the  West,  a  rumor  came  that  the  young 
wife  had  died  soon  after  giving  birth  to  a  child  ; 
and  there  was  something  very  dreadful  about  it. 
A  month  later,  Mr.  Van  Cortlandt  had  heard 
nothing  further,  but  that  Mrs.  Suydam  had 
broken  up  her  household  in  Buffalo,  and  gone 
abroad  with  some  English  friends,  by  way  of  the 
Lakes  and  Canada;  that  the  whole  story  was 
very  sad  (as  had  been  reported  before)  ;  and 


162  ME.  SCHERMERHOKN'S 

everybody  in  the  place  was  sorry  for  the  family, 
and  very  little  was  said  about  it.  "  They  were 
always  good  brother  and  sister  to  each  other, 
those  two  orphans,"  the  uncle  said. 

The  town  learned  to  grow  accustomed  to  be 
without  the  family  which  had  once  for  a  while 
filled  so  large  a  space  in  it,  and  to  see,  without 
seeing,  the  house  shut  up.  The  curiosity  of  the 
town  had  satisfied  itself  as  well  as  it  could. 
Tom  Curley  had  gone  on  plying  his  trade ; 
and,  though  few  travellers  ever  went  or  came 
the  whole  distance,  yet  Curley  and  others  had 
brought  shreds  of  news  from  Buffalo,  which 
were  discussed  at  Mr.  Henry's  street  corner 
and  elsewhere.  "  The  house  took  fire  ;  and 
young  Mrs.  Schermerhorn  got  frightened,  and 
she  died  of  it.  He  walked  from  one  end  of  the 
place  to  the  other,  bareheaded,  and  never  knew 
it.  He  wouldn't  look  at  the  child."  With  these 
bits,  the  town  filled  up  its  understanding  of  the 
case. 

Now,  seasons  went  and  came.  The  Schermer 
horn  s'  house  stood,  silent  and  dark,  on  its  side  of 
Fort  Street,  —  shut  in  from  the  sunlight,  upon 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  163 

the  yet  fresh  memories  and  traces  of  the  happy 
life  which  had  begun  and  never  ended  there ; 
and  beside  it,  also  silent  and  dark,  stood  the  lit 
tle  "  office  "  of  its  owner,  bearing  the  useless 
sign  with  his  name,  and  perhaps  some  of  the 
hooks  which  had  borne  colored  lights  on  the 
wedding-day,  and  which  no  pains  had  been 
taken  to  remove.  "  Little  Gracie's  round  of 
widows  and  cripples,"  as  the  uncle  had  kindly 
called  them,  found  themselves  remembered  still, 
for  her  sake ;  but  Mr.  Schermerhorn  did  not 
come  back.  Mr.  Barendt  said :  "  When  he 
comes  back,  he  '11  come  more  of  a  man  than 
ever.  He  's  gone  to  fight  it  down,  not  with 
pleasure,  but  hard  work." 

The  time  began  to  be  told  now,  even  by  years. 
Changes  took  place  in  the  old  town.  Some 
went  away  by  the  road  of  death ;  as,  beside 
others,  good  Mrs.  Marselus  died  peacefully,  and 
her  earthy  remains  were  laid  in  the  Dutch 
Burying  Ground ;  Mrs.  Swart,  after  her  son 
was  lost  in  the  "  Decatur,"  kept  her  house  ; 
Major  Prout  walked  a  little  lame ;  the  post- 
office  was  moved  across  to  Mr.  Van  Home's 


164  ME.  SCHERMEEHORN'S 

new  block,  on  the  opposite  side  of  De  Ruyter 
Street,  and  a  new  "  Genesee  flour  store  "  was 
opened  in  the  empty  building ;  Mr.  Van  Cort- 
landt's  house  was  painted  a  light  yellow  color, 
instead  of  its  solid-looking  old  red ;  the  smallest 
of  the  three  vanes  of  the  Dutch  Church,  which 
was  unseated  by  the  great  storm,  was  standing, 
for  the  time,  in  Deacon  Stimus's  yard ;  a  new 
bridge  had  been  built  over  the  canal,  at  Vande- 
water  Street.  No  change  came  over  the  Scher- 
merhorns'  house,  in  Fort  Street.  Mr.  Bridport, 
the  English  artist  who  made  the  three  famous 
sketches  on  the  Mohican  and  that  of  Hunter's 
Gap,  had  tried  to  hire  it  for  a  year  or  two,  and 
Mr.  Voorhies  to  buy  it ;  but  in  vain.  It  was 
understood  that  Mr.  Schermerhorn  or  his  sister 
was  to  live  in  it.  The  house  stood  shut;  but 
no  mould  grew  on  the  white  steps,  nor  grass  be 
tween  the  flagging-stones ;  and  the  garden  (as 
any  one  might  see,  through  the  paling)  did  not 
run  wild :  slowly,  as  new  trees  were  planted  and 
grew  up,  and  the  box  was  set  in  new  places, 
it  changed  its  look.  But  a  change  was  made 
elsewhere,  at  another  of  the  family  houses : 


MARRIAGE  AND  WIDOWHOOD.  165 

a  snow-white  stone,  on  a  jet-black  base,  stood 
by  the  young  wife's  grave.  Now,  as  the  fall  of 
each  year  came  round,  a  crown  of  flowers  was 
seen  yearly  on  the  sod. 

Editor  Van  Sandtvoord  —  perhaps  because  his 
profession  gave  him  a  good  deal  of  leisure  —  read 
pretty  widely,  and  read  understandingly  ;  and, 
being  a  country  editor,  he  gave  his  townsmen  as 
much  reason  to  think  well  of  themselves,  and  to 
feel  proud  of  the  place  which  they  filled  in  the 
world,  as  he  could.  From  time  to  time,  he  had 
something  to  say  in  "  The  Mirror  "  about  "  their 
distinguished  fellow-citizen  abroad,"  and  wisely 
took  much  credit  to  the  town  for  him. 

Major  Prout  felt  sorely  that  "  the  country  was 
going  to  pieces,  and  was  sure  that  John  Scher- 
merhorn  ought  to  come  back.  There  was  a  fine 
field  for  his  abilities."  And  Dr.  Campbell  ex 
pressed  himself  very  freely :  "  The  man  [Scher- 
merhorn]  ought  to  come  back :  it  was  not  healthy 
to  be  nursing  his  grief.  The  work  here  would 
cure  him.  It  was  time  for  him  :  people  would 
be  forgetting  him." 

"  There  '11  always  be  a  place  for  a  man  like 


166  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

that,  whenever  he  comes,"  County  Attorney 
Parsons  said. 

Mr.  Case  Barendt  simply  answered,  whoever 
asked  him,  that  "  they  must  wait  the  time  :  fever 
always  took  hold  of  strong  people  hardest." 

At  first,  the  child  was  said  to  have  lived,  but 
that  was  never  confirmed;  and  Mr.  Cornelius 
Barendt  showed  Mr.  Van  Home,  and  whoever 
asked  him,  that  there  was  no  hope  of  John 
Schermerhorn's  having  saved  that  comfort  from 
his  wreck.  "  He  was  fighting  out  his  fight  single- 
handed,  and  would  conquer  in  it,  too." 

"  When  he  comes  home,  we  must  have  his 
sister  and  her  children  back,"  Mr.  Barendt  said. 
Mr.  Parsons  agreed ;  Mr.  Van  Cortlandt,  also ; 
and  Mr.  Van  Cortlandt  said,  — 

"  There  never  were  a  brother  and  sister 
fonder  of  each  other." 

"  Children  are  the  things  to  bring  a  man 
round.  They  say  she  's  got  beautiful  children," 
said  Mr.  Case  Barendt. 

"  Ah  !  bachelors  are  always  the  best  fathers," 
Mr.  Parsons  said,  laughing.  "  Come,  Case,  you 
must  have  a  chance  to  try  the  child-cure." 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  167 

Now,  after  so  long  a  time,  when  the  lonely 
wanderer  in  foreign  lands,  although  not  forgot 
ten,  was,  of  course,  little  and  seldom  thought  of, 
suddenly,  in  the  third  spring's  first  warm  weather, 
there  began  to  spring  from  the  ground,  with  the 
earliest  growths,  before  the  wondering  eyes  of 
the  townsmen,  and  under  Mr.  Barendt's  orders, 
a  new  third  room  to  Mr.  Sehermerhorn's  office, 
with  a  doorway  opening  into  the  garden,  on  the 
other  side  from  the  house. 

"  That  looks  encouraging,"  said  Mr.  Van 
Home.  "  He  's  coming  round.  There  was  Judge 
Preston  went  abroad,  and  was  gone  five  months 
(he  was  terribly  cut  up).  In  a  year  and  a  half, 
he  was  married  again." 

"  Ay,"  said  Mr.  Barendt ;  "  and  then,  again, 
there  was  Chancellor  Denham  did  pretty  much 
the  same,  and  he  isn't  married  yet.  John  Scher- 
merhorn  isn't  that  sort  of  man." 

"  Best  thing  he  could  do,"  said  Mr.  Van 
Home,  "  and  come  home,  and  settle  down  again. 
And  see  here  !  he  was  as  full  of  his  law  as  he 
was  of  his  wife.  Where  's  all  that  now  ?  For 
a  man  that 's  got  a  business,  and  his  business 


168  MB.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

suits  him,  't  isn't  the  thing  to  run  away.  But 
get  him  home,  and  we  '11  soon  fetch  him  right." 

One  day,  near  the  end  of  summer,  the  travel 
ler  came  home,  —  a  bronzed,  grave,  dignified 
man,  with  his  great  mass  of  hair  grizzled  ;  but 
a  man  who  stood  up  as  straight  as  ever,  and 
looked,  more  earnestly  and  thoughtfully  than 
ever,  right  through  one,  and  beyond. 

The  town  was  full  of  talk  again,  and  a  little 
quiet  stir.  Some  said  that  Mr.  Schermerhorn 
had  never  once  lifted  his  eyes  to  look  at  house 
or  garden  or  office  ;  and  it  was  generally  agreed 
that  he  had  not  entered  his  house,  nor  had  he 
even  gone  into  his  office  by  the  front  door :  he 
had  silently  walked,  with  Mr.  Barendt,  through 
the  door  in  the  garden,  and  taken  possession. 
The  next  day,  James  Van  Cortlandt  (now  ready 
for  admission  to  the  bar)  took  his  place  again ; 
and  it  was  understood -that  Mr.  Schermerhorn 
was  hard  at  work  once  more,  and  once  more 
engaged  as  junior,  with  eminent  counsel,  in 
important  cases. 

Now  he  was,  a  great  deal  of  his  time,  away 
from  home,  in  Albany  and  elsewhere.  His 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  169 

house  stood  shut  in  upon  itself,  as  before ;  and 
he  had  never  gone  into  it.  Some  said  that  he 
had  never  looked  at  it.  He  slept  in  the  back 
room  of  his  office,  and  had  the  room  cared  for 
by  old  Chloe,  once  a  slave  of  his  father's.  In 
that  room  was  said  to  be  hanging  a  veiled  por 
trait  of  his  wife.  He  took  his  meals  privately, 
at  the  hotel. 

Old  Chloe  could,  perhaps,  as  easily  have  been 
brought  to  open  her  veins  and  let  out  her  own 
life-blood  as  to  open  her  mouth  and  utter  a 
word  of  Mr.  John's  secrets.  Mr.  Barendt,  it 
was  known,  had  one  day  gone  suddenly  out  of 
his  office,  on  a  summons  from  his  friend,  within 
the  first  day  or  two  of  his  getting  home,  and  to 
have  come  back,  not  long  after,  silent  and  agi 
tated  ;  but  nothing  whatever  was  heard  from 
Mr.  Barendt  about  it.  As  for  what  the  neigh 
bors  could  themselves  know  of  their  much- 
talked-of  townsman's  ways,  all  agreed  that, 
"  when  anybody  could  get  speech  of  him,  he  was 
kind,  in  his  way,  and  listened  well "  (which,  of 
course,  pleased  them),  "and  that  he  did  not 
keep  away  from  people."  He  sometimes  went 

8 


170  ME.   SCHERMERHOKN'S 

in  the  twilight,  visiting  from  one  stoep  to  an 
other,  after  the  friendly  fashion  of  the  town  ; 
but,  it  was  said,  "  He  was  a  little,  too  learned. 
To  be  sure,  he  never  used  to  care  about  the 
gossip  and  talk  of  the  neighborhood  ;  only,  then 
he  knew  all  about  what  anybody  was  reading. 
Now  he  would  listen,  and  talk  wonderfully 
sometimes,  but  there  were  few  people  to  whom 
he  would  say  much ;  and  a  strange  thing  was 
that  he  never  came  where  there  were  any 
children." 

The  long  winter  evenings,  with  blazing  wood 
fires  flashing  out  into  them,  were  bringing  round 
again  that  tender  and  most  kindred-stirring 
time,  when  the  warm  tides  of  blood  draw  to 
gether.  In  one  evening  during  this  time,  and 
early  in  it,  District -Attorney  Parsons  and  Mr. 
Barendt  were  sitting  together  ;  Barendt  having 
just  recited  a  passage,  which  he  thought  very 
beautiful,  from  a  book  of  Washington  Irving, 
when  Mr.  Schermerhorn  was  shown  in. 

It  is  very  likely  that  no  one  of  the  three  could 
fail  to  recall,  at  the  moment,  every  look  and 
word  of  that  most  sad  interview  between  the 


MAERIAGE  AND  WIDOWHOOD.  171 

same  three,  and  in  the  same  room,  some  years 
before.  Mr.  Schermerhorn,  as  he  came  in,  cast 
one  look  about  him,  as  it  seemed,  almost  shrink 
ing  ;  but  the  greeting  of  his  two  friends  was 
hearty,  and  entirely  unembarrassed  :  — 

"  I  was  just  going,  John,"  Barendt  said. 

"  No,  Cornelius  Barendt,  stay !  "  Schermer 
horn  answered,  as  if  he  had  something  special 
to  say.  "  I  want  to  see  you.  I  don't  know 
when  I  shall  get  a  spare  evening  again." 

Barendt  stayed ;  and  Schermerhorn,  after 
seating  himself,  looked  nervously  from  the  one 
to  the  other,  as  if  for  the  moment  under  the 
sway  of  overmastering  thought  and  feeling ; 
but  of  that  earnest  entreaty  nothing  came. 

They  began  to  grow  uneasy  as  they  sat. 
Barendt,  as  if  at  haphazard,  spoke  of  changes 
in  old  countries,  or  some  such  thing.  All 
at  once,  Schermerhorn  had  mastered  himself, 
and  soon  they  were  drawn  with  him  into  a  strong, 
deep  current  of  talk,  —  not  at  all  about  himself, 
or  his  past,  or  what  was  before  him,  but  about 
things  as  far  off  as  the  inthrusts  of  the  Saracenic 
conquest  in  Spain,  and  the  Roman  in  Britain, 


172  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

and  the  Greek  settlements  in  Italy,  into  man 
ners,  art,  science,  character,  language. 

The  two  eagerly  did  their  best  to  go  along 
with  him,  and  yet  were  obliged  to  leave  the 
great  share  of  the  conversation  to  him  ;  so  far 
was  his  familiarity  with  the  histories  of  institu 
tions  and  peoples  beyond  that  of  a  well-read 
lawyer  or  intelligent  scholar.  They  told  him 
so.  When  he  found  himself  talking  alone,  and 
the  others  listening  oftener  than  speaking,  he 
changed  the  subject,  and  apologized :  "  he  had 
been  studying  so  long,"  he  said.  All  the  time, 
while  there  was  nothing  strange  or  distant  in 
him,  yet  he  was,  as  he  talked,  clearly  a  grave 
and  earnest  man  ;  and  all  the  time  there  was 
something  to  remind  his  friends  that  there  were 
years  of  life  and  work  between  him  and  the 
happy  and  hopeful  young  man  who  had  been 
so  suddenly  struck  down,  and  then  had  sud 
denly  broken  away  from  the  ruin  of  his  happy 
life.  ' 

They  talked  of  things  in  their  own  profession, 
and  of  great  cases  in  England  and  at  home. 
And  now,  through  all  that  he  said,  one 


MARRIAGE  AND  WIDOWHOOD.  173 

thing  was  very  prominent,  —  the  thought  of 
making  the  science  and  practice  of  the  law  the 
science  and  practice  of  pure  right.  He  did  not 
propose  any  hare-brained  attempt  at  a  sudden 
revolution  in  the  profession,  but  steady,  strong 
work  in  writing,  discussing,  pushing  legislation 
for  years,  or  for  a  lifetime,  if  necessary. 

Here,  as  the  three  were  all  trained  and  prac 
tised  lawyers,  as  well  as  thoughtful  and  consci 
entious  men,  the  talking  never  flagged  on  any 
side.  Mr.  Parsons  "  admired  abstractly,"  as 
he  said,  "  but  looked  upon  any  plan  for  idealiz 
ing  men's  quarrels  as  moonshine."  Mr.  Barendt 
sympathized  with  the  wish  to  make  their  pro 
fession  what  it  ought  to  be,  but  did  not  hope 
to  see  it  carried  out,  because  habits  were  so 
strongly  established. 

The  forehead  of  the  earnest  talker  seemed 
almost  higher  and  broader  than  a  few  years 
back ;  his  face  was  thinner  and  more  pale ;  his 
hair  was  fast  turning ;  his  eyes,  if  they  had 
gained  something,  had  also  lost  something,  — 
perhaps  only  that  seldom  merriness  which,  when 
it  showed  itself,  had  been  so  winning  and  so 


174  ME.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

catching.  Was  he  more  changed  within  than 
outwardly?  The  old  kindliness,  even  the  old 
tenderness,  seemed  to  be  there  still,  but  sev 
ered,  somehow,  and  held  a  little  off. 

He  did  not  shun  talking  with  his  intimate 
friends  here  about  his  sister  Gertrude  and  the 
children,  and  of  their  coming  home  ;  though  his 
way  was,  perhaps,  a  little  strange.  He  spoke 
like  a  loving  brother,  if  he  made  no  show  of 
strong  feeling ;  but  he  certainly  was  not  longing 
for  them,  as  if  they  could  cheer  his  loneliness,  or 
break  it  up.  He  spoke  as  if  he  thought  it 
might  be  his  sister's  wish  to  come  back  to 
Buffalo,  where  she  had  spent  her  married  life, 
and  not  to  her  earlier  home  ;  or  she  might  like 
to  stay  abroad,  and  give  the  children  a  chance 
with  the  languages.  There  seemed  almost  a 
fear  of  her  choosing  Westeiivliet.  "  But  per 
haps,"  he  said,  "  the  old  house  was  the  best  and 
happiest  place  for  her  ;  and  it  could  be  fitted  for 
her  in  a  day."  This  might  seem  a  thing  easy 
enough  for  him  to  say ;  but  it  seemed  to  cost 
him  some  effort. 

Now,  though  he  showed  nothing  but  strength, 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  175 

—  though  he  did  not  yield  or  break  anywhere,  — 
could  it  be  that  he  really  dreaded  having  the 
house  opened  again,  and  made  a  home?  He 
did  not  speak  freely :  at  times,  he  seemed  near 
saying  something  which  he  did  not  say.  Ba- 
rendt,  however,  took  him  up  at  once.  "Of 
course,"  he  said,  "  the  right  thing  was  to  have 
Gertrude  back,  with  her  children ;  and  they 
were  beautiful  children.  It  would  make  a 
difference  to  the  whole  place." 

Schermerhorn's  answer  to  this  was  a  little 
strange,  too.  "  He  supposed  it  would,  —  oh,  yes  ! 
no  doubt  it  would." 

Barendt,  when  Schermerhorn  had  taken  leave, 
and  gone  out  of  the  room,  stayed  long  enough 
behind,  before  joining  him,  to  say  hurriedly: 
"  He  never  came  for  that!  He  wanted  to  speak 
about  himself,  and  can't.  One  thing  we  can 
see :  there  's  a  great  will  in  him.  He  has 
looked  about  for  a  worthy  ambition  that  he  can 
make  a  business  of  life.  We  used  to  say  that 
Schermerhorn  would  make  a  man :  he  's  going  to 
make  a  great  man  !  " 

"  He  is  a  great  man,"  Parsons  answered.   "  He 


1T6  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

could  make  three  books  out  of  what  he  said 
to-night." 

As  Barendt  hurried  out,  Parsons  went  (per 
haps  without  thinking)  to  the  window,  and 
drew  up  the  blind,  looking  forth  on  the  night. 
His  late  visitor  was  standing  outside,  and, 
as  if  in  deep  thought,  was  gazing  into  the 
far  depths  of  the  sky.  Neither  the  motion 
nor  the  sound  disturbed  him ;  but,  in  a  mo 
ment,  he  had  recalled  himself,  and  paced  the 
sidewalk  with  a  strong  step.  As  Barendt  came 
up,  he  was  ready,  as  if  he  had  been  waiting  for 
him,  and  walked  away. 

If  Mrs.  Suydam  stayed  unexpectedly  abroad, 
—  and  so  kept  out  of  reach  the  two  influences 
from  which  so  much  had  been  hoped,  —  another 
person  came  to  the  town,  from  whom  also,  per 
haps,  under  the  circumstances,  something  might 
be  expected.  Mrs.  Cornelius  Bleecker,  —  once 
Miss  Nellie  Kearney,  —  well  known  here,  and 
now  the  young  widow  whose  husband's  will 
was  so  long  and  bitterly  contested,  and  whom 
our  readers  met  near  the  outset  of  this 
story,  came  to  the  town  to  live,  and  took 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  177 

a  house  in  Hague  Street.  She  was  a  person 
who  could  no  more  move  or  stop  moving, 
without  drawing  observant  eyes,  than  a  fla 
mingo  or  a  fire -hang-bird  can  flash  in  the  sun 
or  alight  without  being  looked  after.  She 
was  handsome  and  elegant  and  tasteful  and 
clever;  and  the  little  daughter  whom  she 
brought  with  her  was  so  unlike  her  —  while,  at 
the  same  time,  as  pretty  and  bright  and  fresh  as 
possible  —  that  the  child  added  to  the  mother's 
charm. 

Mrs.  Bleecker  had  made  no  change  in  her  wid 
ow's  weeds  ;  and  not  only  were  they  very  be 
coming,  but  somehow  the  rustle  of  them  sent  a 
thrill  through  the  air,  stronger  and  longer-last 
ing  than  forces  seemingly  much  greater.  Every 
thing  about  her  was  most  fitting,  and  as  it  ought 
to  be.  Though  she  drove  her  little  carriage 
through  the  streets  and  on  the  country  roads 
(there  were  no  tramps  then),  it  was  without 
dash  or  show  ;  and  she  walked  about  and  made 
visits  and  went  to  church,  all  very  simply  and 
modestly.  So,  if  she  drew  eyes,  she  did  not 
draw  that  sharp  criticism  which  follows  closely 
8* 


178 


rich  and  handsome  widows,  but  kind  feeling, 
It  would  seem  that  everybody  liked  her,  —  Mr. 
Parsons,  Mr.  Barendt,  Major  Prout,  the  Honor 
able  Mr.  Voorhies,  as  well  as  young  men  and 
maidens  of  Mr.  James  Van  Cortlandt's  standing. 
Dr.  Campbell  paid  enthusiastic  court  to  her,  and 
to  her  little  daughter.  Colonel  Masker  hastily 
wrote  that  he  must  come  home,  and  do  the  devoir 
of  a  gallant  knight ;  and  explained  (for  he  was 
a  man  of  reading)  that  that  was  "  old  Norman 
French,  from  the  days  of  chivalry."  He  could 
have  said  "  squire  of  dames,"  but  it  might 
have  been  misunderstood.  "  The  Mirror,"  in 
Editor  Van  Sandtvoord's  delicate  way,  bright 
ened  its  pages  —  not  dull  before  —  with  pretty 
bits  of  rhyme  and  prose,  hinting  the  fair  new 
comer.  The  reader  will  not  wonder  that  Mr. 
Van  Home  —  who,  being  rich  and  having  no 
business,  might  be  supposed  to  be  a  man  of 
good  judgment  —  took  occasion  to  see  Mr.  Par 
sons  and  Mr.  Barendt  severally,  to  tell  them 
that  "  here  was  the  very  thing,  —  both  rich, 
both  young,  both  handsome,  both  mourners,  both 
old  friends.  What  could  be  better  ?  " 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  179 

The  public  recalled  its  own  thought  of  a  few 
years  since,  that  Nellie  Kearney  had  wanted  to 
marry  John  Schermerhorn ;  or,  as  it  remem 
bered  now,  more  conveniently,  that  the  two  had 
been  lovers.  Mr.  Parsons,  however,  said  :  "  To 
my  personal  knowledge,  he  has  declined  —  abso 
lutely  —  a  brief  in  her  case." 

One  day,  when  the  sun  was  shining  brightly, 
and  a  breeze  was  blowing  softly,  —  all  because 
the  blithe  spring  was  near  at  hand,  —  the  ele 
gant  widow  came,  with  her  little  daughter,  qui 
etly  and  modestly,  to  the  front  door  of  Mr. 
Schermerhorn's  office,  on  Fort  Street.  The 
door  fell  open,  as  it  were,  of  its  own  accord ; 
and  young  Mr.  Van  Cortlandt,  with  a  most 
eager  and  most  finished  salutation,  asked  her  in. 
Mr.  James  Van  Cortlandt,  as  he  shut  the  door, 
felt,  doubtless,  that  he  was  cutting  off,  most 
painfully,  the  sight  of  many  sharp,  bright  eyes, 
less  happy  than  his  own.  The  minds  whose 
eyes  were  thus  shut  out  from  serving  them  in 
tins  direction  might  busy  themselves  with  think 
ing  that,  coming  on  such  an  errand  as  Mrs. 
Bleecker's  probably  was,  Josephine  Beauharnais 


180  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

met  the  First  Consul  of  the  first  French  Repub 
lic  ;  that,  on  such  another  errand,  Elizabeth 
Woodville  met  the  Fourth  Edward  of  England. 
What  might  not  follow  this  first  step,  —  and 
follow  immediately  upon  it,  too,  as  in  the  other 
cases  ? 

The  bright  sun  shone  ;  the  mild  breeze  softly 
breathed  through  the  street :  very  likely,  many 
lesser  orbs  were  glancing  at  that  little  building, 
and  other  breaths  were  busy  with  speculation 
about  that  visit.  Inside,  she  would  be  waited 
on  by  Mr.  James  Van  Cortlandt :  further  within 
was  the  thoughtful,  studious  lawyer,  whose  once 
fresh,  unstunned,  unwouiided  heart  had  shared 
the  same  happy  seasons  and  been  stirred  by  the 
same  sights  and  thoughts  and  sounds  as  had 
moved  the  pretty,  lively  Nellie  Kearney,  of  that 
time. 

Perhaps  the  minds  that  were  occupied  with 
such  inseeings  into  the  likelihoods  of  coming 
time  and  ever-working  hearts  put  things  together 
better  than  we  :  we  can  tell  what  happened. 
The  bright  sun  and  the  soft  breeze  were  still 
shining  and  breathing,  as  before,  when,  not 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  181 

long  after,  the  same  door  opened  again ;  and  the 
mother  and  child  came  forth,  attended  and  fol 
lowed  by  much  lively  and  courteous  demonstra 
tion  of  Mr.  James  Van  Cortlandt,  who  was 
not  to  be  satisfied  without  seeing  little  Nellie 
safe  as  far  as  the  middle  of  the  sidewalk.  Be 
yond  that  point,  —  at  which  he  received  a  very 
short  (but,  of  course,  most  graceful)  bow  from 
Mrs.  Bleecker,  —  our  young  friend  had  no  ad 
vantage  over  whatever  neighbors,  seen  or  un 
seen,  might  be  straining  their  eyes  upon  the 
beauteous  widow  and  her  child.  He  stood,  in 
deed,  and  looked  after  them  ;  yet  even  little 
Nellie,  as,  holding  her  mother's  hand,  she  now 
and  then  skipped  along  the  walk,  and  now  and 
then  lagged,  but  always  asked  questions,  — 
even  little  Nellie  never  once  looked  back.  So 
Mr.  James  Van  Cortlandt,  hastily,  and  looking 
the  other  way,  went  in  again. 

As  for  the  mother,  —  whether  she  were  deeply 
moved  or  disappointed  or  grieved  or  satisfied,  — 
could  any  one  ever  yet  see,  in  the  bearing  or 
gait,  or  in  the  cheek  or  mouth  or  eye  of  a  well- 
bred  woman,  who  knows  the  well-bred  world, 


182 


any  thing  but  what  she  wished  him  to  see,  —  pro 
vided  she  had  only  a  little  freedom  of  surround 
ings,  —  a  little  allowance  of  time  and  room  ? 
We  may  safely  say  that  Mrs.  Ellen  Bleecker 
made  no  one  who  saw  her  the  wiser  for  the 
seeing. 

Young  Van  Cortlandt  had,  of  course,  his  ac 
count,  of  which  he  laughingly  bestowed  more 
or  less  upon  a  good  many  people.  If  he  had  felt 
at  all  slighted  by  their  unmindful  way  of  leaving 
him,  he  had  soon  forgotten  it.  He  said  "  that 
Mrs.  Bleecker  was  overpowering;  but  John 
Schermerhorn  wasn't  a  woman's  man  now,  if  he 
ever  had  been.  He  had  plenty  of  manner  and 
style  (he  knew  how  to  do  that  thing)  ;  but 
then,  if  Sanders's  pump,  with  its  old  round 
head  and  oak  handle,  had  been  stuck  up  in  a 
chair,  it  would  be  all  the  same  to  John  Scher 
merhorn,  —  that 's  the  way  it  was  that  time,  at 
any  rate."  This  and  other  of  Mr.  Van  Cort- 
landt's  utterances  were  made,  as  it  were,  a  little 
under  the  breath.  It  is  not  likely  that  any 
one  talked  with  Mr.  Schermerhorn  about  pri 
vate  and  delicate  matters.  The  truth  was  that, 


MARRIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  183 

now  that  he  was  there,  he  was  such  a  man  that 
it  would  seem  as  sensible  to  say  of  the  south 
west  wind  that,  if  they  could  get  it  to  blow  in 
Westenvliet,  they  would  apply  a  few  rules  to 
it,  as  to  say  what  had  seemed  so  easy,  of  Mr. 
Schermerhorn,  when  he  was  abroad,  that,  "if 
they  could  get  him  home,  they  would  soon 
bring  him  right."  Even  professional  men 
seemed  to  have  a  sort  of  ceremony  about  go 
ing  to  his  office,  which  was  thought  to  be  bulg 
ing  out  with  books  far  beyond  the  range  of 
ordinary  lawyers  ;  and,  when  he  went  away 
(as  he  was  continually  going),  he  never  took 
public  carriages,  but  was  driven  off  by  himself, 
and  very  often  at  midnight,  or  after. 

Time  went  on  again.  Mr.  Schermerhorn 
lived  on,  in  his  narrow,  lonely  way,  and  worked, 
as  before.  He  won  a  good  deal  of  name  in 
those  famous  "  Canal  suits,"  by  which,  it  used 
to  be  said,  two  important  points  were  settled. 
He  was,  with  Mr.  Whiteside,  of  Albany,  in  other 
noted  cases.  He  seemed  unchanged,  except 
that  he  seemed  always  to  be  growing  more 
such  a  man  as  he  had  shown  himself  since  he 


184  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

came  home.  Mrs.  Nellie  Bleecker  delighted 
everybody,  as  before.  His  life  and  hers  were 
not  seen  to  have  any  bearing  upon  each  other. 
Good  Mr.  Barendt  was  joked  about  educating 
little  Nellie  for  his  wife,  because  he  played  with 
her  and  walked  with  her,  and  showed  her  the 
sights  in  shop  windows.  The  news  of  Ger 
trude  Suydam  and  her  family  came  wholly 
through  Mrs.  Bleecker.  The  little  Charley,  par 
ticularly,  was  growing  to  be  pretty  well  known 
in  the  town ;  and  many  clever  sayings  and  do 
ings  were  already  told  of  him,  as  of  one  of  the 
citizens. 

The  days  went  on.  Again,  like  a  merry 
and  comely  old-time  seller  of  ribbons  and  laces 
and  other  pretty  wares,  came  the  blithe  Spring, 
whistling  and  trolling  his  melodies  through  the 
valley  of  the  Mohican  ;  and  presently  trees  and 
flowers  were  gay  and  glad,  —  flaunting  and  flut 
tering  in  his  fresh,  harmless  fineries,  on  every 
side,  —  in  white  and  pink  and  light  green  and 
dark  green  and  yellow  and  purple  and  blue. 
The  maidens  of  the  town  vied  with  the  un- 
speaking,  never-moving  dwellers  under  open 


MARRIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  185 

sky,  and  gladdened  all  the  streets  with  their 
bright  hues.  The  season  was  most  beautiful. 
Summer,  coming  at  his  appointed  time,  found 
the  place  all  ready  for  him,  with  nothing  to  do 
but  to  enjoy  it.  In  the  town,  packet-boats  and 
freight-boats  passed  to  and  fro ;  stage-coaches 
rattled  up  to  the  inn-doors ;  contemplative  men 
leaned  and  smoked  over  bridge-railings ;  while 
boys,  barefooted,  sat  on  the  bridge -floors,  fish 
ing.  .  The  life  of  the  town  was  all  going  on,  as 
usual.  Mr.  Schermerhorn,  who  was  much  of 
the  time  away,  was  at  this  time  as  far  away  as 
Washington,  it  was  said. 

All  of  a  sudden,  the  long-closed  blinds  and 
shutters  of  the  Schermerhorn  house,  in  Fort 
Street,  were  thrown  open  ;  the  windows  gaped, 
to  draw  in  the  fresh  air  ;  and  busy  female  forms 
could  be  seen  flitting  about,  inside  and  outside, 
scrubbing  and  sweeping  and  dusting.  As  usual, 
in  every  thing  about  the  Schermerhorns,  it  was 
Mr.  Barendt  who  gave  orders,  and  saw  to  what 
ever  was  done.  The  house  was  alive  and  awake, 
and  open  to  the  great  human  sympathy,  once 
more :  neighbors  of  various  ages  drew  near,  and 


186  MM.  SCHERMERIIORN'S 

stood  and  talked  in  front  of  it,  under  the  shade 
of  the  trees. 

Before  long,  Gertrude  Suydam  came,  with 
her  children  ;  and  was  welcomed  by  a  troop  of 
friends,  much  like  that  which,  in  the  ever- 
moving  procession  of  life,  took  leave  of  Grace 
Schermerhorn.  If  those  who  were  here  were 
older  since  that  time,  and  if,  perhaps,  there 
were  fewer  young  people  now,  yet  there  were 
enough  to  scramble  for  the  children,  of  whom 
Kate  Hamilton,  of  New  York  (once  Kate 
Van  Cortlandt),  caught  the  boy,  —  a  hand 
some,  manly  little  fellow,  whose  cheeks  out 
landish  suns  had  stained  olive,  through  their 
red.  Everybody  smiled  at  his  first  words,  and 
thought  it  pretty  that  he  should  have  said  them. 
They  seemed  almost  prophetic  of  Mr.  Barendt's 
hope  being  fulfilled. 

4i  Where  's  my  uncle  ?  "  little  Charley  asked, 
yielding  readily  to  be  taken  by  the  hand,  as  if  to 
put  a  long-saved  question.  "  That  isn't  my 
uncle  ?  "  he  asked  again,  a  little  doubtfully,  giv 
ing  his  free  hand  to  Mr.  Cornelius  Barendt,  and 
looking  hard  in  his  face.  This  the  girls  all  took 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  187 

for  wonderful  brightness  ;  and  it  brought  him  a 
shower  of  praises. 

No  one  wondered  that  Mrs.  Suydam  shed 
tears.  "  I  've  changed  every  thing  as  much  as 
I  could,"  Mr.  Barendt  hastened  to  say,  as  they 
entered  the  house.  The  sister  did  not  look 
round.  "  He  's  been  always  hearing  of  John, 
since  he  could  understand  any  thing,"  she  said, 
evidently  having  her  boy  and  his  speech  in  her 
mind.  "  John  waited  for  me  last  night,  in  Al 
bany,  before  he  started  for  Washington,"  she 
added,  still  looking  at  Mr.  Barendt,  and  not 
looking  about  her.  The  girl  was  a  year  or 
two  older,  and  seemed  a  very  wise  little  body ; 
first  putting  carefully  down  something  she  car 
ried,  before  being  made  acquainted  with  several 
girls,  —  rather  shy,  indeed,  but  all  intent  upon 
her.  Our  friend  and  Mr.  Case  Barendt's,  Nellie 
Bleecker,  having  gazed  steadily  at  Charley,  — 
who  was  nearer  her  own  age,  —  went  and  joined 
him,  slipping  her  hand  into  his,  inside  Mrs. 
Hamilton's.  Mr.  Barendt  smiled. 

That  evening,  the  "  Arions,"  who  now  num 
bered  three,  serenaded  the  house,  at  a  good, 


188  MB.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

comfortable,  early  hour,  and  were  called  in. 
The  worthy  Mr.  Van  Arsdale,  though  unaccom 
panied  by  any  pageant,  was  with  them.  Mr. 
Barendt,  at  one  time,  saw  the  good  man  study 
ing  the  outside  of  the  office,  which  had  made 
part  of  the  scene  of  his  former  well-devised  dis 
play  ;  and  Mr.  Parsons,  at  another  time,  watched 
him  and  pointed  him  out,  recalling  in  the  parlors 
the  several  spots  which  were  memorable  to  him 
for  association  with  the  same  festivity. 

So  the  family  was  at  home :  the  children  had 
found  play-fellows  and  school-fellows ;  and  Mr. 
Schermerhorn's  house  was  once  more  restored  to 
living  use.  He  was  still  away,  for  a  good  while, 
afterwards.  In  the  still,  old  streets,  the  chil 
dren  were  soon  as  much  at  home  and  as  merry  as 
if  they  had  been  born  there,  and  had  never  been 
away ;  and  this  gave  occasion  to  some  wise  peo 
ple  to  say  that  Westenvliet  was  "  an  easy  town 
to  grow  to  ; "  while  others  saw,  in  the  young 
things,  an  inborn  drawing  to  the  home  of  their 
fathers.  They  went  on,  finding  out  and  filling, 
with  their  pretty,  childish  associations,  every 
place  in  house  and  garden  and  stoep  and  side- 


MARKIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  189 

walk  and  cellar- windows  which  could  be  made 
to  carry  them. 

A  finding  of  colored  lamps,  in  a  corner  of  the 
garret,  made  a  decoration  for  a  magic  hall,  —  in 
the  daytime,  at  least,  —  as  good  as  in  the  "  Ara 
bian  Nights,"  of  which  Mary  had  read  some 
thing,  and  heard  more.  The  chief  doer,  being 
a  girl,  was  easily  contented  to  believe,  without 
seeing,  their  surpassing  beauty  and  splendor, 
when  fed  with  oil  and  floating  wick,  and  lighted 
at  night.  Egypt  is  not  more  marked  by  its  pyr 
amids,  or  the  Troad  or  Taurican  Chersonesus 
or  Babylonia  or  Chaldea  by  mounds  and  buried 
cities,  than  the  garden-haunts  of  these  tireless 
delvers  and  builders,  with  all  their  willing  help 
ers,  were  marked  by  piles  and  pit-falls.  Never 
did  crownless,  noseless,  earless,  lipless,  browless 
lump  of  marble,  in  Elis  or  Phocis,  give  more 
play  to  learned  men's  fancy,  in  supplying  linea 
ments  traced  by  Praxiteles,  and  the  features  of 
god  or  hero,  than  did  door-knocker  or  stoep- 
post  or  baluster  give  to  these  children,  in  mak 
ing  out  on  them  the  features  of  Washington  and 
Lafayette  and  De  Witt  Clinton,  or  the  nearer 


190  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

celebrities,  Doctor  Campbell  and  Major  Prout. 
Little  Nellie  Bleecker  was  like  another  sister ; 
sometimes,  indeed,  filling  more  than  her  share 
of  place,  Avith  her  voice  and  her  person,  as  is 
the  way  of  some  things,  small  and  great. 

Mr.  Case  Barendt,  with  plenty  of  business, 
and  as  many  demands  of  society  as  other  gen 
tlemen,  was  one  of  the  children's  chief  bosom- 
friends  and  confidants ;  and  he  was  delighted 
with  the  prospect,  if  Mr.  Schermerhorn  could 
only  be  at  home  for  a  little  while.  "If  we  can 
only  set  'em  at  him  !  "  as  he  said.  "  They  've 
filled  the  whole  house  and  garden  with  every 
sort  of  thing  to  catch  a  man's  feelings.  How  are 
you  going  to  stand  out  against  'em  ?  Any  two 
of  them  can  come  at  you  from  a  dozen  sides  at 
once  !  They  've  got  as  many  hands  as  Briareus." 

"  How  wise  these  fellows  are,  that  haven't 
got  any  children,  Case !  "  said  Mr.  Parsons ; 
"  but  here  's  your  chance,  as  I  always  said.  I 
don't  see  why  not .  I  'in  with  you  there,  Case." 

Barendt  took  him  up,  cheerfully  :  "  It  would 
bring  anybody  round  !  "  he  said.  "  Yes  :  I  do 
know  every  boy  and  girl  in  the  whole  place ; 


MARRIAGE  AND  WIDOWHOOD.  191 

and  I  'm  crony  with  half  the  children  in 
town.  This  little  Charley  Suydam  is  just 
the  thing  for  his  uncle,  if  we  could  only  get 
him.  His  mother  has  kept  setting  John  be 
fore  him  ;  and  the  chap  has  grown  up  full  of  his 
Uncle  John.  Mary  isn't  so  :  she  says  her  uncle 
never  came  near  them  ;  and  she  thinks  he  might. 
Do  you  knoiv  they  've  never  set  eyes  on  John  ?  " 

"  Never  seen  him  ?  "  his  friend  said.  "  What 's 
this  about  Schermerhorn's  meeting  them  yester 
day,  in  Albany  ?  " 

"  He  met  her"  said  Barendt.  "  You  know 
how  he  is.  He  got  round  to  -his  sister  about 
midnight.  After  he  got  there,  she  said,  he 
stayed  a  long  time.  And  then,  beforehand,  he 
had  attended  to  every  little  thing,  she  told  me, 
that  nobody  would  have  thought  of.  She  's 
pretty  easily  satisfied  with  any  thing  he  does. 
I  wish  I  was  !  I  don't  like  to  see  him  growing 
taller  and  taller,  with  no  more  sympathy  than  a 
Lombardy  poplar.  Now  look  at  that  Charley !  " 
he  cried  out,  as  he  happened  to  see  the  little  fel 
low,  much  as  he  might  cry  out  if  he  had  seen 
something  worth  looking  at.  His  friend  smiled, 


192  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S  . 

but  took  the  trouble  to  put  his  head  out  of  the 
window  for  him,  whether  he  saw  the  boy  or 
not. 

"  I  think  we  shall  have  to  take  Schermerhorn 
as  he  is,"  Mr.  Parsons  answered.  "  It 's  my  opin 
ion  that  the  soft  in  him  was  pretty  well  ab 
sorbed,  in  that  struggle  of  his ;  and,  after  all, 
Case,  he  's  too  big  a  fish  to  play  as  you  would  a 
trout,  in  the  Schroon  country.  I  'm  afraid  your 
little  affections  of  home,  and  so  on,  won't  hold 
him.  It  doesn't  look  to  me  as  if  your  little 
Jennie  Suydam,  there "  (he  said  the  name 
wrongly,  by  accident  or  on  purpose),  "  and 
Charley  were  going  to  be  of  much  account  to  a 
man  that's  wanted,  in  reference  and  consulta 
tion  (to  say  nothing  of  his  other  business,  and 
that  committee  on  codification),  thirty-six  hours 
in  the  twenty-four.  We  agreed,  you  know,  that 
Schermerhorn  is  a  great  man,  and  going  to  be 
greater." 

Mr.  Cornelius  Barendt  was  very  steadfast  in 
his  opinions  and  feelings. 

"  Parsons,"  he  said,  "  great  men  have  to 
eat,  like  other  people,  don't  they?  They've 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  193 

got  feelings  (for  you  can  hurt  'em,  anyway,  like 
other  people),  haven't  they?  Now,  I  tell  you  , 
that  John  Schermerhorn  is  big  enough  for  great 
things  and  little  things  too.  But,  dear  me !  is 
the  heart  a  little  thing  in  great  men  ?  Then 
commend  me  to  little  men ! " 

Mrs.  Suydam  had  not  been  long  settled  before 
her  brother  came  home  again,  as  usual,  for  a 
while.  The  house,  as  it  was  now,  had  a  happy 
look  of  being  on  good  terms  with  sun  and  air, 
and  all  about  it.  This  was  the  owner's  first 
coming  since  his  sister  had  lived  in  it ;  and  per 
haps  some  of  the  neighbors  had  been  looking 
forward  to  see  whether  he  would  change  his 
way  of  living  now.  We  know  that  some  of  his 
best  friends  were  concerned  in  what  might  come 
Oi  it.  He  had  come  in  the  night,  without  any 
warning :  so  it  could  hardly  be  said  at  first  what 
had  happened  or  what  he  had  done  then. 

As  he  stayed  on,  it  was  seen  by  the  neighbors 
—  as  many  as  chose  to  see  it — that  he  was  just 
as  busy  as  ever  in  his  office,  and  that  he  took  his 
way  as  regularly,  and  with  his  face  as  full  of 
thought,  as  ever  to  his  meals  at  the  hotel.  It 
9 


194  MR.  SCHEEMEEHOEN'S 

was  not  seen  that  he  ever  entered  the  house  in 
which  his  sister  was  living,  or  even  went  up  its 
steps.  As  for  the  children,  though  it  was  true 
(as  their  friend,  Mr.  Barendt,  said)  that  they 
filled  the  whole  air  with  gladness,  and  left  marks 
and  tokens  of  their  restless,  happy  life  every 
where,  there  seemed  to  be  an  unseen  barrier 
between  them  and  their  uncle,  which  kept  them 
out  as  surely  as  fresh,  strong,  fragrant  flowers 
are  kept  out  by  the  glass  of  parlor  windows. 

Still,  we  must  beg  our  readers  to  look  upon  the 
children  as  being  henceforth,  without  going  out 
of  their  childish  character,  among  the  chief  act 
ors  of  our  story  ;  and  this,  not  because  Mr. 
Barendt  planned  it  so,  but  because,  as  often 
happens,  they  were  so  in  fact. 

"  I  don't  believe  Uncle  John  will  come  to  see 
us  now,  when  he  's  close  by,"  the  little  girl 
said ;  and  she  persuaded  the  more  eager  Char 
ley  to  wait  in  his  advances.  The  boy  waited, 
looking  often,  and  at  first  most  hopefully,  to  the 
garden  gate.  He  went  to  school,  with  his  eyes 
turned  often  backwards.  His  first  question,  on 
coming  home,  was  whether  his  uncle  had  been 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  195 

in  the  house  while  he  was  gone.  To  his  won 
der  and  sorrow,  he  was  obliged  to  learn  that  his 
uncle  was  a  great,  busy  man,  and  sometimes 
could  not  think  of  any  thing  but  his  business. 
Poor  Mrs.  Suydam,  with  all  her  woman's  faith 
and  all  her  woman's  skill  in  making  up  good 
motives,  found  it  hard  to  make  Charley  see 
(though  she  used  many  tears  in  showing  him) 
how  "  big  people  could  love  little  people,  arid 
not  be  good  to  them,  and  want  to  see  them." 
But  she  persuaded  him  to  accept  the  uncle's 
lavish  giving  of  presents  as  some  proof  of  a  big 
man's  love,  without  as  yet  being  able  to  under 
stand  why  there  should  not  be,  moreover,  some 
of  the  other  signs  of  love  which  would  satisfy 
a  little  heart  a  great  deal  better. 

Before  this  lesson  that  he  was  learning  was 
finished,  and  as  a  part  of  it,  the  boy  made  a  lit 
tle  trial  of  his  own.  Very  silently  and  quietly, 
he  went  and  laid,  near  the  door  through  which 
his  uncle  went  and  came,  one  of  his  own  choicest 
things ;  and  one  which,  very  likely,  the  boy 
thought  to  have  a  sure  power  to  touch  the  gen 
eral  human  heart,  —  a  shingle,  deftly  shaped, 


196  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

and  fitted  with  all  needful  sticks  and  threads 
and  shreds  of  cotton  cloth  to  make  it  a  ship. 
He  stationed  himself  to  see ;  but  nothing  came 
of  it.  Never  was  ship  more  cast  away.  He  set 
himself  near  his  uncle's  walk,  where  he  could 
not  but  be  seen,  —  getting  Mary  to  peep  round 
the  corner  of  the  "  office,"  all  the  while.  Mr. 
Schermerhorn  went  very  hastily  by,  without 
seeming  to  see  any  one  or  any  thing.  The  boy 
tried  the  same  thing  over  again,  in  a  new  place. 
Mr.  Schermerhorn,  this  time,  turned  back  alto 
gether  ;  and  Charley  withdrew.  The  mother 
persuaded  him  not  to  make  a  third  trial  yet. 
The  child  was  too  young  to  feel  any  thing  but 
perplexity  about  his  uncle,  or  to  feel  that  long. 

A  sort  of  understanding  settled  down  and 
took  possession  of  the  part  of  the  garden  which 
lay  along  the  "office;"  and  within  this  the 
children  never  set  foot,  or,  if  they  had  set  it, 
withdrew  it. 

But  all  this  seemed  to  be  wearing  into  the 
sister's  very  life  ;  and  often,  as  she  and  her 
brother  would  be  walking  up  and  down  in  the 
garden,  her  look  was  said  to  be  piteous,  indeed. 


MARRIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  197 

Nay,  it  was  even  said  that  she  had  been  seen  to 
stand  before  him  with  clasped  hands,  as  plead 
ing  with  him. 

And  still  the  neighbors  said  that  he  had  never 
entered  his  house,  and  that  he  shunned  the 
warm-hearted  little  people  there,  who  were 
yearning  to  love  him.  Gertrude  Suydam, 
though  the  house  was  thronged  by  friends,  and 
though  she  took  to  herself  plenty  of  work  for 
the  children,  and,  with  Mrs.  Bleecker  and  others, 
was  very  constantly  busy  outdoors,  was  said  to 
be  saddened,  all  the  time,  by  this  strangeness  of 
her  brother.  Whether  she  had  ever  spoken  to 
him  of  it,  no  one  seemed  able  to  say  ;  but  there 
were  people  enough  who  uttered  freely  their 
own  readiness  to  "  tell  him  the  plain  truth  about 
it,  if  they  had  the  chance."  Mrs.  Easterly,  the 
sexton's  wife,  did  the  "  clear-starching "  for  a 
good  many  ladies,  and  she  carried  the  general 
sentiment  from  one  to  another  :  "  It  was  all  very 
well  for  a  man  to  stay  a  widower  ;  but  to  pun 
ish  other  people  because  he  had  lost  his  wife 
was  a  wrong  thing.  He  was  a  great  deal  of  a 
man,  no  doubt,  and  a  credit  to  the  town ;  but  he 


198  Mil.    SCHERMER  fJORN'8 

might  as  well  be  a  little  something  to  those  that 
belonged  to  him.  If  his  own  child  was  living 
(as  there  always  had  been  a  talk),  he  ought  to 
have  that  child  home."  Before  any  thing  new 
was  heard,  he  was  away  again. 

Time  still  went  on ;  Mr.  Schermerhorn's 
reputation  growing  always,  and  his  occupations 
keeping  him  much  away  from  home.  He  was 
persuaded  to  be  a  candidate  for  place,  and  was 
chosen.  This,  again,  would  be  followed  by  his 
being  away  from  home  more  than  ever.  Mr. 
Schermerhorn,  however,  not  only  came  back 
from  time  to  time,  but  never  made  a  home  any 
where  else.  As  we  have  little  to  do  with  his 
public  life  or  his  professional  work,  except  as 
far  as  they  touch  our  story,  we  shall  not  go 
with  him  to  the  lesser  Senate  at  Albany,  or  to 
the  House  in  Washington,  but  shall  still  write 
from  the  side  of  our  town,  in  which  he  had,  arid 
never  altogether  left,  his  home. 

One  case  in  his  practice  of  the  law  concerns 
us,  because  it  throws  light  upon  his  character 
and  state  of  mind  at  about  the  time  to  which 
we  have  come  ;  in  which  the  little  Charley  has 


MAKKIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  199 

been  trying,  in  his  own  puny  way,  to  find  his 
uncle's  heart. 

The  case  of  Hatherton,  Cornwall,  and  Roup, 
of  New  York  and  Albany,  against  Wirislow,  in 
terested  the  public  very  widely,  riot  only  because 
of  the  largeness  of  their  business  doings,  but 
because  the  opinion  had  steadily  gained  ground, 
since  the  plaintiffs  appeal,  that  the  firm  were 
trying  to  ruin  an  innocent  man  in  their  employ- 
merit,  to  cover  up  a  conspiracy  to  defraud  their 
creditors.  Several  eminent  counsel,  as  Mr. 
Whiteside  arid  Mr.  Schermerhorn,  had  given 
their  services  to  the  defence ;  and,  as  Mr. 
Whiteside  was  forbidden  public  speaking,  an 
unexpected  share  of  forensic  work  was  thrown 
upon  the  younger  counsel,  —  the  most  impor 
tant  upon  Mr.  Schermerhorn.  In  his  argument, 
such  was  the  closeness  arid  skill  with  which  he 
used  the  evidence  for  showing  motive,  and  in 
tracing  a  chain  of  facts,  as  well  as  his  learning 
in  the  law  and  familiarity  with  noted  cases, 
that  those  who  listened,  listened  not  to  lose  a 
word.  He  made  the  guilty  actors  appear,  from 
step  to  step,  as  walking  in  a  gallery,  with  their 


200  MK.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

features  thrown  into  outline  and  light,  and  their 
shadows  cast  upon  the  wall,  by  a  lamp  carried 
in  their  own  hand.  He  put  mighty  strength 
into  this  work,  and  the  effect  was  wonderful. 
When  he  came  to  describe  the  respectable  and 
happy  home,  which  these  bad  men  had  done 
their  worst  to  lay  in  ruins,  in  a  moment  —  with 
out  any  warning,  unless  the  flood  of  feeling  and 
the  broken  voice  were  warning  —  he  stopped, 
and  could  not  go  on,  though  he  made  a  trial, 
after  waiting.  He  then  left  that  part  of  his  sub 
ject  just  as  it  was,  and  finished  his  speech.  The 
jury,  like  the  former,  gave  a  speedy  verdict  for 
the  defendant;  and,  in  all  the  praise  given  to 
Mr.  Schermerhorn's  argument,  the  part  which 
he  had  left  broken  off  was  singled  out  as  "  a 
matchless  appeal,"  "  an  inimitable  stroke,"  — 
sayings  which  afterwards  found  their  way  into 
print. 

Now  it  was,  when  he  was  driving  away  hur 
riedly  from  the  court-room,  —  having  shunned  % 
persons  crowding  from  all  sides  to  congratulate 
him,  —  that,  after  an  hour  and  more,  in  which 
he   had   spoken  very  little,  he  said,  "  Barendt, 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  201 

I  Ve  mistaken  myself,"  and  then  told  his  friend 
that  he  was  thoroughly  ashamed  of  having  been 
conquered,  as  he  had  been. 

Barendt,  in  his  straightforward,  hearty  way, 
told  him  that  what  he  had  done  in  court  could 
be  safely  left  to  take  care  of  itself,  and  had  been 
nobly  done,  in  a  most  worthy  cause,  "  but  that 
(if  he  might  say  it)  a  man's  life  needed  to  have 
the  kindlinesses  fed  and  worked.  Of  course  " 
(and  here  the  speaker  showed  some  hesitation), 
"  where  a  man  had  a  child  of  his  own,  that  was 
the  nearest  thing  to  draw  out  his  tenderness  ; 
but,"  he  added,  hastening  from  this  subject, 
"  there  were  two  little  folks,  at  next  door,  that 
had  a  right  to  know  their  uncle,  and  were  long 
ing  to  be  taken  to  his  heart ;  and  a  man  couldn't 
keep  himself  from  being  happy  that  was  on  the 
right  footing  with  children." 

All  this,  which  was  said  with  honest  earnest 
ness,  was  heard  in  silence,  although  during  a  part 
of  it  the  listener  was  uneasy  or  impatient.  They 
Were  driving  slowly  through  the  streets  of  the 
town,  just  after  sunset,  —  a  time  when  children, 
like  birds  just  before  going  to  their  night's 
9* 


202  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

roost,  seem  more  than  ever  busy,  and  when  our 
own  elder  hearts  often  go  back  to  the  evenings 
of  childhood,  and  to  their  feelings  and  words. 
The  sky  in  front  of  them  was  showing  great 
golden  depths ;  merry  shouts  and  laughs  came 
up  from  unseen  places  near.  There  were  particu 
larly  merry  shouts  coming  up,  as  they  turned 
into  Fort  Street,  very  near  Mr.  Schermerhorn's. 
The  voices  struck  Mr.  Barendt  with  a  sym 
pathetic  stir:  "That,"  said  he,  "that's"  — 
but  checked  himself  before  saying  the  name. 
Almost  instantly,  his  silent  companion  started 
in  his  turn,  and  uttered  a  sort  of  cry.  They 
were  already  close  by  the  office,  the  front  of 
which  would  have  been  in  shade  against  the 
western  sky,  but  for  what  was  in  doing.  A 
golden  light  was  now  spread  over  all  the  upper 
part  of  its  face,  and  under  the  slightly  project 
ing  eaves,  and  upon  the  bright  hair  and  glisten 
ing  brow  and  eye  and  nose  and  lip  of  a  little  boy 
clinging  stoutly  to  one  of  the  upper  rounds  of  a 
ladder  set  against  the  building,  and  the  darker 
head  and  graver  face  of  a  girl,  just  below  him  ; 
while  a  third  figure  of  a  little  girl,  with  uplifted 


MARRIAGE   AND  WIDOWHOOD.  203 

face,  could  be  made  out,  at  some  distance  fur 
ther  down.  The  very  first  glance  would  show 
that  the  upper  two  figures  were  of  Charley  and 
his  sister,  and  that  they  had  climbed  so  as  to 
hang  on  the  face  of  the  little  building,  near  the 
top,  one  of  those  colored  glass  lights  that  be 
longed  to  illuminations.  A  prettier  sight  could 
hardly  anywhere  have  been  seen  —  indeed, 
could  hardly  have  been  wished  —  than  this 
child's  show,  with  the  waning  glories  of  the 
heaven  for  a  background. 

There  was  time  only  for  a  glance. 

Mr.  Schermerhorn  had,  in  an  instant  after 
his  exclamation,  laid  hold  of  the  reins  and 
stopped  the  carriage,  and  got  out.  Then,  as  he 
put  the  reins  into  the  driver's  hand  again,  he 
said,  "  Cornelius,  come  and  see  me  by  and  by, 
will  you  ?  "  and  walked  away  without  a  word 
more.  His  friend  left  the  carriage  at  the  same 
place,  and  hurried  to  the  illumination. 

The  children  had  given  no  heed  to  the  sound 
of  the  wheels,  so  busy  were  they  in  admiring 
and  enjoying  their  own  work,  and  planning  an 
addition  to  it.  Other  children  were  looking  up 


204  MK.  SCHEKMEEHOKN'S 

from  the  sidewalk,  wondering  or  criticising. 
Mr.  Barendt  was  joyfully  hailed  by  Charley 
and  Mary  (more  quietly,  this  time,  by  Nellie 
Bleecker,  whose  heart  was  even  fuller  than 
theirs  of  wonder  and  triumph),  and  was  taken 
at  once  into  their  confidence.  The  occasion  of 
this  great  display  ("  which,"  they  said,  "  would 
be  a  great  deal  more  beautiful,  if  they  could 
keep  on  with  it,  —  only  it  took  a  good  while  to 
climb  up  the  ladder,  and  then  get  the  lamp  up) 
was  their  Uncle  John's  having  made  a  beautiful 
speech,  and  got  a  man  off  that  was  going  to  be 
punished  for  being  good.  Mr.  Henry  had  come 
up  and  told  mamma  all  about  it,  and  Mrs. 
Bleecker  too.  The  lamps  they  had  had  ever  so 
long,  only  they  had  never  lighted  them  before. 
They  knew  that  lights  used  to  be  hung  up 
there,  for  a  good  many  people  said  so." 

Mr.  Barendt  soon  traced  the  history  of  the 
many-colored  lamps  to  the  garret  where  the 
children  had  found  them.  "  Yes,  yes,  I  see  !  " 
he  said.  "  Ah  me  !  "  and  then  set  himself,  with 
his  best  wit,  to  put  a  stop  to  the  show,  and 
keep  the  children  in  good  humor.  It  had  been 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  205 

intended  to  surprise  the  mother;  and  he  suc 
ceeded  in  arranging  with  them  a  better  sur 
prise  inside  the  house,  where  he  himself  could 
help  them  in  hanging  the  lamps. 

Late  in  the  evening,  when  Mr.  Cornelius 
Barendt  came  to  his  friend's  office,  Mr.  Scher- 
merhorn,  who  was  diligently  making  notes  from 
an  open  book,  left  his  work  and  began  to  speak 
at  once,  without  preface  :  — 

"  Cornelius,  it's  impossible  for  me  to  go  on 
without  a  break,  after  making  that  exhibi 
tion  !  No  doubt,  some  people  already  think  it  a 
clever  trick  instead  of  a  stupid  shame.  I  don't 
know  how  I  got  into  it.  I  never  intended  go 
ing  freely  into  that  subject.  Now  I  'm  utterly 
ashamed !  It  '11  be  said  that  I  entered  upon  it 
on  purpose  to  break  down." 

Barendt  waited,  when  he  stopped  speaking. 

"  You  want  me  to  take  up  that  boy  :  I  can't ! 
He  belongs  to  Gertrude  ;  and  he  '11  have  every 
advantage,  with  the  best  woman  in  the  world 
to  bring  him  up,  and  with  all  my  means  at  Ger 
trude's  disposal.  I  can't  make  a  hole  in  the 
wall  of  my  heart  without  its  cracking  or  coming 


206 


down,  like  that  poor  masonry  in  Classis  Street. 
It 's  made  of  bad  stuff.  That  little  thing,  to 
night  !  It  was  too  much,  slight  and  harmless  as 
it  was !  " 

"  They  were  really  celebrating  your  triumph, 
the  little  things ! "  Barendt  said,  "  and  very 
happy  in  it." 

Schermerhorn  looked  more  pained.  He  put 
his  hand  over  his  brow,  and  presently  leaned 
upon  the  desk. 

44  Go  on,  Case !  "  he  said,  after  some  time. 

Barendt  began  earnestly,  as  usual ;  and  he 
began  slowly :  — 

44  My  dear  Schermerhorn,"  he  said,  "  I  can 
speak  only  in  one  way.  I  can't  think  shutting 
up  a  man's  heart  right,  in  any  case.  It 's  worse 
to  have  it  breed  mouldiness  and  "  — - 

"  Rottenness,"  his  friend  said  sadly. 

44  Mouldiness  and  unwholesomeness,  than  to 
have  the  wall  come  down." 

He  left  argument,  and  only  pleaded  the  hap 
piness  of  being  on  a  free  footing  with  his  little 
friends;  and,  whether  he  had  convinced  the 
other  or  not,  at  least  he  was  not  gainsaid.  Imme- 


MAKKIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  207 

diately  after  this  interview,  however,  it  was  that 
Mr.  Schermerhorn  first  went  into  public  life. 
Immediately  after  it,  too,  the  uncle's  presents 
came  in  greater  numbers  than  ever  to  the  chil 
dren  ;  but  there  was  no  change  to  be  seen  in  his 
relations  to  them.  He  set  up  scholarship  prizes 
and  good-behavior  prizes  in  the  school  which 
they  were  attending. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  little  Charles  was 
too  young  to  have  any  lasting  feeling  about  his 
uncle,  except  a  feeling  of  amazement  at  the  na 
ture  of  big  uncles.  Why  Mr.  Barendt  should  be 
one  of  his  dearest  friends,  and  should  like  play 
as  well  as  he  himself  did ;  why  Major  Prout, 
and  Rector  Digges,  and  Mr.  Van  Home,  and 
everybody  else,  should  speak  to  children,  and 
stop  and  look  at  them,  and  Doctor  Campbell 
always  take  a  boy  up  and  fling  him  over  his 
back  and  run  away  with  him,  —  he  did  not  won 
der  ;  but  why  an  uncle  could  only  send  pres 
ents,  the  child  did  not  understand ;  nor  could 
Mrs.  Suydam  make  it  plain.  As  for  Mary,  she 
dismissed  the  subject,  with  saying  that  she 
"  didn't  believe  he  wanted  to ; "  and  little 


208 


Nellie  Bleecker,  though  no  older  than  Charley, 
seemed  to  have  made  up  her  mind  very  decid 
edly  to  the  same  effect  with  Mary. 

None  of  them,  perhaps,  fairly  saw  how  strange 
a  thing  it  was  that  their  uncle  never  had  any 
thing  to  do  with  them ;  but  some  people,  of 
course,  were  sharp-sighted  enough,  and  watch 
ful  enough,  and  jealous  enough  for  the  right, 
and  had  feeling  enough  for  Mrs.  Suydam,  to  see 
the  thing,  and  see  it  in  its  right  light,  and  to  let 
her  know,  in  one  way  or  other,  how  sorry  they 
were.  There  were  a  set  of  people  who  brought 
it  home  to  Charley's  understanding  that  other 
boys'  uncles  loved  them,  and  treated  them  like 
their  own  children  :  these  were  his  schoolmates. 
The  boy  at  first  paid  little  heed  to  them ;  but 
at  length  he  was  very  sore,  with  their  constant 
pricking  of  the  same  spot.  Mr.  Barendt,  for 
some  reason  of  his  own  (which,  perhaps,  the 
reader  may  guess),  met  the  children  less  often 
than  before  ;  although,  when  he  was  with  them, 
he  seemed  more  frolicsome  and  merry  than  ever, 
and  (as  they  said)  "  was  very  funny."  On  one 
rainy  afternoon,  as  he  was  walking  fast  by 


MAKKIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  209 

the  house,  little  Charley  suddenly  ran,  bare 
headed,  down  the  steps,  and  thrusting  a  paper 
upon  him,  without  a  word  said,  but  with  a  very 
determined  look,  ran  back  again.  Mr.  Barendt 
smiled  when  his  eyes  first  fell  on  what  (in  the 
shape  of  a  clumsy  letter)  had  been  so  suddenly 
given  to  his  keeping  ;  but  his  next  look  was 
thoughtful  and  grave.  Having  called  after  the 
boy  to  no  purpose,  and  looked  up  at  the  lower 
windows  of  the  houses,  hesitating  as  if  doubtful 
about  going  on,  he  kept  on  his  way.  A  childish 
shout  came  from  behind  the  front  door  held 
just  ajar.  "  You  must  give  it  to  him,  Mr. 
Barendt !  Will  you  please  give  it  to  him  ?  "  and 
the  door  was  noisily  shut  as  soon  as  he  had 
given  the  wished-for  answer. 

Mr.  Barendt  had  not  gone  far  before,  turning 
round,  he  came  back,  and  knocked  at  Mr. 
Schermerhorn's  office  door,  and  was  let  in, 
bearing  his  package. 

In  the  presence  of  the  grave,  gray,  thought 
ful-looking  inmate  of  the  room,  this  slight  and 
trivial  child's  embassage  grew  suddenly  serious. 

The  ambassador  said,  as  he  came  in,  "I  don't 


210 


know  what  this  is  (it  was  given  me  just  now,  in 
the  street,  by  Charley,  who  made  me  promise  to 
bring  it,  and  wouldn't  stop  to  explain),  but  it 's 
a  regular  letter,  apparently,  to  '  MY  TJNCL  GON ' 
(G-O-N),  in  boys'  capitals." 

He  smiled  as  he  held  out  the  clumsy-looking 
folded  paper. 

His  friend  looked  at  him  silently  and  mourn 
fully,  then  shook  his  head. 

"  Cornelius  !  "  said  he,  "  I  can't :  it 's  beyond 
my  power.  Will  you  attend  to  it  ?  Do  !  —  will 
you  ?  " 

Barendt  opened  it  instantly,  and  read  slowly 
aloud,  without  any  criticism  of  the  writing  or 
spelling,  but  with  some  difficulty,  these  few 
words :  "  Dear  Uncle,  I  wish  you  would  talk 
to  us.  We  love  you.  Charles  Suydam." 
"  That 's  a  touching  little  letter,"  he  said,  when 
he  had  read  it.  "  It  almost  talks." 

Mr.  Schermerhorn  was  strangely  affected,  for 
so  trifling  a  thing.  His  hand  trembled,  as  he 
turned  away  and  fumbled  to  shut  a  window 
which  was  a  little  open. 

"  You  will  attend  to  it,  won't  you  ?  "  he  said. 
"  I  can't,  —  I  can't !  " 


MAKEIAGB  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  211 

"  I  see  a  good  deal  of  them,  and  so  I  happen 
to  know  what  the  trouble  is,  —  their  school 
mates  plague  them  about  having  an  uncle  that 
won't  speak  to  them,"  Barendt  said. 

"  If  the  neighbors  look  so  hard  at  me,"  his 
friend  said,  "  I  shall  have  to  keep  away." 

"  John  Schermerhorn  !  —  my  dear  man  !  " 
said  Barendt.  "  If  you  'd  let  me  "  — 

"  Not  yet !  —  not  yet,  Cornelius  !  —  not  yet !  " 
the  other  answered,  and  Barendt  left  him  to 
himself,  saying  only,  "  It's  a  simple,  easy  little 
thing !  " 

The  unsuccessful  ambassador  was  again  walk 
ing  in  front  of  the  house,  when  he  started  at 
hearing  Charley's  voice,  and  cleared  his  face, 
which  was  clouded. 

"  Is  he  going  to  ?  "  it  asked  ;  nobody  being  in 
sight,  but  the  door  being  held  ajar. 

44  Pretty  soon,  I  hope,"  Mr.  Barendt  called 
out  cheerily  through  the  rain. 

There  was  no  answer ;  but  the  door  was  in 
stantly  slammed. 

The  rain  had  cleared  away,  when  Mr.  Case 
Barendt  was  again  walking  slowly  in  front  of 


212 


the  same  house, — possibly,  if  the  truth  were 
known,  looking  for  Charley  or  Mary.  One  can 
always  come  upon  fresh  traces,  where  children 
have  their  haunts,  as  surely  as  upon  chips  where 
beavers  build.  As  he  looked  across  the  paling, 
a  sort  of  sign  stared  in  his  face,  —  a  wooden 
board  with  strange  lettering  :  "  i  HAV  GOT  A  NY 
UNKL,"  he  read  aloud  ;  and  again,  "i  HAV  GOT 
A  NY  UNKL,"  he  read  once  more.  "  The  little 
chap  has  left  out  his  '  not,'  and  he  does  not 
know  much  about  spelling  ;  but  he  does  know 
how  to  tell  a  thing.  This  has  got  into  the  boy's 
heart!  It'll  never  do!  It's  too  sad!  We 
must  "  — 

As  he  spoke,  the  board,  which  had  seemed  as 
fast  as  the  fence,  began  an  extraordinary  migra 
tion  ;  and  he  found  that  the  young  author,  sup 
ported  by  Mary  on  one  side  and  Nellie  on  the 
the  other,  had  been,  unseen,  behind  the  paling, 
while  the  older  eyes  had  been  drawn  to  the  let 
ters,  and  the  reader's  thoughts  taken  up  with 
their  meaning. 

The  thing  was  not  like  a  child's  frolic,  for 
there  was  no*  shout  of  laughter.  On  the  con- 


MAREIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.     .       213 

trary,  the  three  moved  away  seriously,  if  not 
solemnly,  Charley  carrying  his  sign,  which  was 
supported  by  a  staff,  like  a  standard.  Mr. 
Barendt  called  to  them,  but  they  did  not  stop. 
"  We  mustn't  have  too  much  of  this  thing  !  " 
he  said,  and  followed  the  children  in  through 
the  gate.  The  three  hurried.  Reaching  the 
ground  near  the  office,  which  they  commonly 
shunned,  they  went  straight  across  it,  and 
round  the  little  building,  hastening  out  of  Mr. 
Barendt's  way,  and  never  speaking,  just  as  if 
it  were  all  understood  beforehand.  He  fol 
lowed  more  slowly,  but  steadily,  and,  as  he  saw 
them  going  out  into  the  street,  called  to  them 
again,  but  to  no  purpose.  On  they  went,  and 
into  the  street ;  and,  as  he  saw  (of  all  men)  Mr. 
Schermerhorn  coming  along  the  sidewalk  to 
ward  his  office,  he  himself  turned  hastily  back. 
This  was  his  shortest  way  to  meet  the  proces 
sion  he  had  been  pursuing  ;  for  they  had,  by 
the  time  he  got  again  to  the  side  of  the  office, 
run  in  through  the  gate  on  that  side.  The  two 
girls  skurried  away  to  the  house  ;  but  Charley, 
no  longer  carrying  his  standard,  seated  himself 
on  a  well-curb,  and  awaited  his  man-friend. 


214  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

The  little  girls  also  presently  stole  back,  and 
stood  beside  him. 

The  child  began  to  smile,  but  his  feelings  had 
been  on  too  great  a  strain,  and  instantly  he  was 
sobbing  and  shedding  tears  as  if  he  could  not 
be  comforted;  and  while  he  let  Mr.  Barendt 
take  his  hand  tenderly,  and  talk  soothingly  to 
him,  he  answered,  as  well  as  the  great  sobs 
would  let  him,  "  He  isn't  my  uncle  !  We  won't 
have  him  for  uncle !  We  '11  call  him  Mister 
Schermerhorn ! " 

The  girls  said  nothing,  and  Mary  looked  as  if 
she  gravely  accepted  every  word. 

Mr.  Barendt's  face  showed  that  he  took  this 
not  as  a  little  thing.  Down  he  went  beside  the 
boy  on  the  well-curb,  and  did  the  best  he  could 
to  bring  him  and  the  others  right.  A  child's 
feeling  may  be  a  short-lived  thing ;  but  in  this 
case,  now  that  it  had  once  come  into  being, 
there  was  likely  to  be  something  to  keep  it 
alive  as  time  went  on. 

Mary  partly  listened ;  partly  pointed  Nellie 
to  the  beauties  of  the  sunset  behind  the  trees 
at  the  end  of  the  garden. 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  215 

He  did  his  best,  and  by  and  by  went  his  way. 
Going  out  of  the  gate,  he  saw  the  poor  little 
heart-sick  fellow's  standard  leaning  against  the 
front  wall  of  the  office,  on  which,  as  he  might 
remember,  the  three  children  had  once  been 
making  their  joyful  show,  because  of  the  un 
cle's  triumph.  Now  the  words  stood  coarsely 
enough  printed,  but  plain  enough  in  their  child 
ish  meaning,  —  that  the  tie  of  kin  was  no  more. 
He  did  not  meddle  with  the  board  or  its  letter 
ing,  but  went  in  to  the  mother. 

Mrs.  Suydam  was  very  grave.  If  Barendt 
took  to  heart  this  little  thing  of  the  children, 
her  heart  seemed  to  be  very  heavy  with  it. 
"  She  knew,"  she  said,  speaking  as  to  a  most- 
trusted  friend,  "  that  that  feeling  was  growing 
up  in  poor  little  Charley's  heart,  and  could  not 
but  fear  that  it  would  be  a  great  deal  worse  ; 
yet  one  could  not  flog  the  boy  for  it ;  and 
how  was  he  to  be  coaxed  out  of  it?  If  he 
could  be  made  to  forget  all  about  it  for  a  few 
years  "  — 

That  night  Mr.  Schermerhorn  went  away 
again. 


216  MR.   SCHERMERHORN  S 

The  seasons  changed  with  each  other  again 
and  again,  year  by  year ;  year  by  year,  the 
never-changing  south-west  wind,  coming  down 
the  valley,  brought  in  sweet-smelling  summer, 
and  the  north-west  wind,  coming  down  the  same 
valley,  flung  his  rough  winter  into  every  nook 
and  cranny.  Charley  had  his  weeks  of  a  dan 
gerous  illness  ;  and,  when  it  was  at  the  worst 
(as  the  story  went),  his  uncle  had  "  walked  up 
and  down,  all  one  blessed  night,  under  the  win 
dows."  The  children  were  growing  up,  and 
Mr.  Schermerhorn  was  becoming  more  known, 
and  of  greater  weight  in  the  country,  though 
not  a  man  to  be  called  popular.  Mrs.  Bleecker 
lived  much  as  before,  and  did  not  change  her 
widow's  weeds.  Worthy  and  unworthy  people 
died :  among  the  rest,  Mr.  Van  Cortlandt  and 
Mrs.  Easterly  (whose  husband  seemed  to  grow 
steadily  smaller,  the  longer  the  wind  blew  about 
him,  and  he  rubbed  against  the  world).  A  rail 
road  had  found  its  way  into  the  town,  and  after 
a  while  had  found  its  way  through  it.  Charley 
was  a  strong,  high-spirited,  reserved  boy,  always 
leader  in  school,  and  never  matched  in  scholar- 


MARRIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  217 

ship,  unless  by  Tom  Bement,  the  builder's  son. 
Tom  had  carried  off,  time  and  again,  the  Scher- 
merhorn  prizes  ;  and  the  young  Suydam,  with 
out  giving  any  reason,  had  refused  them,  when 
awarded  to  him.  Mary  was  growing  up  a  fine 
girl,  and  Nellie  Bleecker  a  quick,  sprightly, 
flashing  little  creature.  Her  intimacy  with  the 
sister  had  remained,  while,  of  course,  her  rela 
tions  with  the  brother  had  changed  a  great  deal 
with  time.  Mr.  Barendt  had  grown  very  bald. 
Mr.  Parsons  was  growing  both  bald  and  gray. 
Mr.  Van  Sandtvoord  had  left  the  editorship  of 
the  "  Mirror." 

Charles  Suydam,  instead  of  changing  in  his 
feelings  to  his  uncle,  had,  in  all  these  years, 
declined  the  presents  which  always  came  from 
him.  He  never  spoke  of  his  uncle,  if  he  ever 
thought  of  him.  Mary  made  no  fuss  about  the 
Christmas  gifts,  or  other  gifts,  but  was  never 
known  to  wear  or  use  any  of  them. 

All  this  was  most  painful  and  most  strange. 
Here  was  an  uncle  of  very  high,  and,  in  many 
respects,  noble  character,  who,  since  the  blow 
which  had  shattered  the  strongest  feelings  of 

10 


218  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 


his  heart,  had  kept  out  all  new  growths  of  affec 
tion  that  ought  to  have  had  a  place  given  them 
there ;  and  here,  on  the  other  hand,  were  these 
warm  yotmg  hearts  that  naturally  should  have 
drawn,  always  more  strongly,  to  a  kinsman  of 
whom  there  was  so  good  reason  to  be  proud, 
almost  loathing  his  name. 

How  much  Mr.  Schermerhorn  had  heard  or 
seen,  or  feared  or  guessed,  of  the  young  people's 
feeling  toward  him,  cannot  now  be  known  :  we 
have  seen  that  he  was  not  beyond  the  reach  of 
influence  from  them,  though  now,  certainly,  he 
had  a  great  deal  to  occupy  him.  In  Congress,  his 
manliness  and  fearlessness  and  mighty  strength 
in  the  sectional  animosities  which  were  always 
rife  there,  if  they  made  him  strong  friends,  made 
him  bitter  foes  and  most  persistent  adversaries. 
Among  his  constituency,  a  strong  opposition 
was  raised,  on  the  ground  of  policy.  It  was 
very  likely  that  he  could  not  be  chosen  again. 

Mrs.  Suydam,  who  had  very  wisely  trusted  to 
time  and  good  influences,  now,  as  Charley  was 
growing  old  enough  for  college,  began,  as  she 
found  chances,  to  set  before  him  her  brother's 


MAEEIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  219 

eminence,  or  his  high  character,  or  the  worth  of 
his  scholarship,  or  what  value  he  set  upon  a  lib 
eral  education.  She  guardedly  gave  the  boy  to 
understand  that  he  was  his  uncle's  chief  heir. 
The  boy,  though  he  never  asked  any  questions 
or  made  any  remarks,  heard  all  that  was  said, 
and  also  Mr.  Barendt's  expressions,  from  time  to 
time,  about  his  friend,  —  often  short  and  ab 
rupt,  but  strong  and  admiring  always. 

One  day,  Mary,  by  chance  or  in  earnest,  told 
her  mother  that  Charley  would  never  willingly 
go  to  college  ;  that  he  was  determined  not  to 
follow  his  uncle's  example,  and  that  he  had  a 
strong  ambition  to  support  himself;  and  the 
poor  lady  saw  that  her  work  and  the  silent 
hopes  of  many  long,  sad  years  were  thrown 
away.  It  was  another  blow  to  her:  she  looked 
pained,  but  said  nothing. 

That  night,  her  brother  came,  weary  and 
worn  and  worried  by  his  life  in  Congress,  for  a 
few  days'  rest.  The  next  day,  in  the  afternoon, 
it  was  said,  all  over  the  town,  that  young 
Charles  Suydam  was  not  to  be  found.  Before 
that  night,  there  was  an  alarm  throughout  the 


220  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

streets.  Men  went  to  search  the  river  and 
canal.  As  usual,  guns  were  fired  over  the 
water.  Mary  Suydam,  poor  girl,  was  pale  and 
trembling  all  the  time.  Nellie  Bleecker  did 
not  leave  her  mother's  house.  In  the  midst  of 
it  all,  the  news  spread  that  Mr.  Schermerhorn 
had  been  taken  with  a  fit,  and  could  not  live. 
It  seemed  as  if  many  beams  of  a  strong  house 
were,  all  at  once,  giving  way  together.  Mrs. 
Suydam,  meanwhile,  was  sad,  but  calm  and 
strong,  and  neglected  nothing.  Mrs.  Bleecker 
was  wondrously  practical ;  for  she  at  once  be 
gan  a  questioning  of  Mary  and  Nellie. 

At  this  turn,  Mary,  weeping  bitterly,  and 
thoroughly  frightened,  spoke  to  good  purpose. 
She  "  believed  the  missing  boy  had  run  away,  to 
get  his  own  living :  she  didn't  know  ;  she  hadn't 
seen  him  ;  but  he  said  he  would."  Dr.  Camp 
bell  soon  set  at  rest  the  story  that  Mr.  Scher 
merhorn  was  dying.  Mr.  Schermerhorn  was 
partially  paralyzed,  and  would  not  be  able  to 
go  back  to  Washington.  If  things  took  a  fa 
vorable  turn,  he  would  be  about  again  shortly. 
The  alarm,  therefore,  was  somewhat  quieted ; 
but  the  town  was  all  eager  for  news. 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  221 

In  the  morning,  Mrs.  Suydam  first  saw  upon 
her  dressing-table  a  letter,  which,  after  reading 
to  herself,  she  read  aloud  to  Mrs.  Bleecker : 
"  *  My  dearer  than  any  mother  in  the  world ! 
Don't  be  afraid.  I  am  not  running  away.  I  know 
I  have  found  out  what  is  weighing  you  down 
all  the  time  ;  and,  when  you  find  I  can  do  right 
by  myself,  you  will  be  better.  I  shall  not  get 
into  any  thing  bad.  I  have  got  my  Bible  and 
Prayer  Book.  I  shall  keep  your  name  for  ever, 
and  not  disgrace  it,  —  God  so  helping  me,  being 
my  helper  ! '  ("  Ah  !  what  a  hurry  he  was  in  ! 
Dear,  dear  Charley  !  "  said  the  mother.)  4  Your 
most  true  and  loving  of  sons,  Charles  Suydam. 
I  shall  always  write/  ' 

Mrs.  Bleecker  spoke  tenderly  and  admiringly 
of  the  boy,  and  was  silent.  The  tears  streamed 
from  the  mother's  eyes.  She  started,  put  the 
letter  into  her  bosom,  wiped  her  face,  and  set 
herself  about  common  things,  without  faltering. 

Mr.  Schermerhorn  at  once  astonished  every 
body.  He  had  himself  removed  to  his  long- 
forsaken  house,  and  to  his  sister's  family. 

Dr.  Campbell  was  not  in  favor  of  summoning 


222  MR.  SCHEHMERHORN'S 

Rector  Digges  to  the  sick  man's  chamber ;  but 
the  sick  man  insisted.  The  result  was  a  meet 
ing  of  Mr.  Barendt  and  Mr.  Parsons  with  Mrs. 
Suydam  and  the  Rector,  and  the  hasty  starting 
forth  of  Mr.  Barendt  afterwards  to  bring  back, 
as  it  was  said,  the  missing  boy.  Mrs.  Bleecker 
was  watching  for  him,  as  he  set  out,  and  ex 
changed  a  few  words  with  him  ;  and  sharp  eyes 
might  have  seen,  at  an  upper  window,  a  flushed 
and  tearful  face,  hardly  to  be  known  for  Nellie's, 
peering  anxiously  forth,  as  he  went  by. 

The  Schermerhorn  house  was  now  nearly  shut 
to  all  the  world. 

As  the  days  went  on,  of  course,  daily  work 
went  on ;  and,  while  blossoms  and  green  leaves 
came  out  on  the  trees  and  shrubs,  and  grass  in 
the  borders  and  door-plots,  garden-beds  had 
been  watered  and  weeded,  and  early  vegetables 
already  gathered  and  eaten,  but  also  men  rested 
at  times  upon  spade  or  hoe,  to  ask  and  tell ; 
women  gossiped,  from  yard,  to  yard ;  stoeps 
were  alive  in  the  evenings  with  question  and 
answer ;  and  market  and  bakery  and  barber's 
shop  were  all  full  of  talk  about  the  Schermer- 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD. 

horns,  and  what  had  happened  and  was  going  to 
happen.     Mr.  Van  Home  had  got  a  New  York 
newspaper,  in  which  had  been  found  this  notice  : 
"  Charles     S ,  who  left   W.    (on   the  Mo 
hican),  Thursday,  May  20,  '  to  seek  his  fortune,' 
is  requested  to  return  at  once.     A  parent's  life 
is  at  stake.     Seaport  papers  please  copy  ;  and 
send  to  C.  Barendt,  counsellor-at-law,  Westen- 
vliet."     On  this,  Mr.  Van  Home  remarked  that 
Mrs.  Suydam  was  too  wise  a  woman  to  die  be 
cause  her  son  had  pushed  out  into  the  world :  he 
himself  had  got  away  off  to  Vancouver's  Island, 
before  he  was  seventeen.     By  all  accounts,  she 
was  the  main  dependence    now.  —  "  And  that 
handsome    widow,    Mrs.    Bleecker,"   said    Mr. 
Henry  (so  it  seems  that  she  was  still  called  the 
handsome  widow),  "  she  told  'em  about  the  sea 
ports,   the    very    last    thing.      They   wouldn't 
have  thought  of  asking  the  girls,  only  for  her." 
"  They  'd  have  been  great  fools,  then,"  said  Mr. 
Van  Home.     "But  you  '11  know  more  than  you 
know   now,   before   a   great   while  ; "    and    he 
walked  away,  like  a  wise  man. 

Not  one   day,  nor  two   days,  brought  back 


224  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

Mr.  Barendt,  or  the  wanderer  for  whom  he  was 
in  search.  There  were  no  telegraphs  ;  there 
were  no  fast  mails  ;  there  was  no  police  organi 
zation  or  detective  service,  anywhere,  fifty  years 
ago.  After  a  few  days  of  tiresome  waiting,  the 
Westenvliet  people  began  to  be  almost  as  rest 
less  and  impatient  as  if  they  were  waiting  in  a 
theatre  for  an  actor  who  does  not  come  on. 

Mr.  Schermerhorn  asked  no  questions  ;  and 
he  was  not  changing  much,  Dr.  Campbell  said. 
He  was  as  dignified  as  ever;  and  one  could 
scarcely  think  him  less  strong  or  self-possessed 
than  in  all  these  years  before.  The  other  mem 
bers  of  the  household  (of  whom  Nellie  Bleecker 
was  now  one,  to  keep  Mary  company)  were 
never  seen. 

The  time  seemed  very  long ;  but,  after  all, 
this  long  time  was  only  a  few  days.  Then  a 
letter  came,  with  good  news ;  and  every  thing 
took  a  turn  for  the  better.  Mr.  Barendt  hoped 
to  be  at  home  with  Charles  Suydam,  in  five 
days:  the  delay  was  in  getting  over  to  Nan- 
tucket  Island,  and  back.  Charley  was  just  as 
good  as  ever. 


MARRIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  225 

Now,  it  was  astonishing  how  vegetables  and 
strawberries  and  every  thing  grew.  Mr.  Scher- 
merhorn  was  improving  all  the  time.  The 
weather  suited  everybody  wonderfully.  Mr. 
Van  Home  got  a  flag  flying  from  the  top 
of  the  earliest  and  tallest  hickory  flagstaff 
in  the  town,  —  put  up  in  the  heat  of  the 
contest  of  Jackson  with  Adams.  Mr.  Van 
Arsdale  got  a  good  many  people  to  keep  it 
secret  that  "  there  would  be  a  very  pretty 
little  show,  when  the  young  man  came  home 
again."  The  Schermerhorn  house  made  its 
neighbors  welcome  once  more ;  and  Nellie  and 
Mary  were,  a  great  deal  of  the  time,  running 
out  to  the  stoep,  and  in  again.  They  had  also 
planned  an  arrangement  of  three  looking-glasses 
about  Mary's  chamber-window,  by  which  every 
body  coming  from  any  quarter  could  be  seen  on 
the  inside. 

The  time  came.  The  news  of  Mr.  Schermer 
horn  had  lately  been  that  there  was  no  change. 
The  crowd,  gathered  all  along  near  where  the 
railway  cars  used  to  come  in,  was,  for  Westen- 
vliet,  enormous.  The  two  intelligent  leaders, 
10* 


226  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

full  of  great  thoughts  and  strong  words,  who 
had  been  here  for  a  few  days,  trying  to  find 
some  "  working  men  "  to  walk  in  a  procession 
and  make  a  demonstration,  because  the  rolling 
and  slitting  mills  at  Troy  had  turned  them 
selves  and  six  others  out,  saw  a  chance  to  do 
another  thing  now,  in  the  interest  of  manhood  ; 
and,  hurrying  to  Mrs.  Suydam  (who  opened  her 
kind  ears  to  them,  supposing  them  objects  of 
charity),  proposed  to  "  get  up,  in  fifteen  min 
utes,  for  a  very  moderate  outlay,  a  first-rate 
public  reception  to  her  son  Charles,  as  a  repre 
sentative  of  the  cause  of  the  working  man." 
Dr.  Campbell,  happily  coming  down  the  stairs, 
relieved  the  house  of  them,  by  an  order  :  "  You 
two  men,  right  about  face  !  March  !  D'  ye 
hear  ?  See  !  there  's  a  shilling  t'  ye.  We  've 
something  catching  in  this  house  !  " 

Mr.  Parsons  (and,  strangely  enough,  in  his 
one-horse  carriage,  with  young  —  he  was  still 
young  —  Mr.  Van  Cortlandt  driving)  was  seen 
moving  slowly  about  in  the  waiting  crowd. 
Mr.  Van  Arsdale  was  there  as  Neptune,  with 
crown  and  three-pronged  sceptre,  and  in  a 


MAKKIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  227 

wagon  decked  with  green,  and  with  a  vacant 
seat  beside  him,  to  be  filled  by  Charles  Suydam, 
whom  Neptune  was  to  restore  to  his  mother. 

The  cars  came  in,  —  clumsy  enough  things ; 
and  the  people,  by  the  time  they  had  ended 
their  curiosity  about  them,  and  about  some  dis 
tinguished-looking  strangers  in  them,  found  that 
their  two  townsmen  were  not  there,  and  went 
away  to  their  homes,  to  talk  it  all  over.  As 
they  scattered,  different  knots  of  them  looked 
into  the  "  Spencertown  stage  "  and  the  "  Ferris- 
burgh  stage,"  and  the  few  other  vehicles  to  be 
met  in  the  street. 

Meantime,  as  the  reader  will  have  supposed, 
Charley  Suydam,  with  Mr.  Barendt,  got  home; 
having  been  taken  up  by  Mr.  Parsons,  a  mile  or 
two  out,  where  the  cars  used  to  make  a  consid 
erable  stoppage.  It  is  needless  to  say  that,  after 
all  their  preparation,  the  first  thing  the  girls 
knew  of  the  arrival  was  from  Charley's  voice. 
"  Where  is  she  ?  "  he  asked,  as  soon  as  he  got 
into  the  house  ;  and,  running  upstairs  to  his 
mother's  room,  went  in,  and  shut  the  door 
behind  him. 


228  MB.  SCHEKMEKHORN'S 

Before  letting  go  his  mother's  hand,  in  his 
first  salutation,  the  boy  began :  "  Of  course,  it 
was  right  for  me  to  come  back.  If  I  can  do  any 
thing  for  him,  I  will.  But  how  can  I  take  him 
for  my  father,  when  he  never  would  let  me  love 
him,  or  even  know  him  ?  Can't  I  keep  on 
being  your  son  ?  " 

Mrs.  Suydam,  looking  up  with  sad  tenderness 
in  Charley's  honest  face,  and  still  holding  his 
hand,  drew  from  her  bosom  a  letter.  His  eyes 
glistened ;  for  it  was  his  own.  He  kissed  her 
hand,  and  like  a  child  rubbed  it  on  his  fore 
head. 

"  Oh,  it 's  another  one  that  I  want,"  she  said ; 
and  again  she  drew  a  letter  from  her  bosom,  but 
this  time  very  different.  This  was  a  clumsy, 
crumpled,  shabby  thing ;  and  one  that  he  had  no 
knowledge  of,  when  she  asked  him. 

"  My  little  Charley !  "  she  said,  as  if  she 
would  take  this  fine,  manly  youth  a  good  many 
years  back,  "  I  've  had  this  ever  since  Mr. 
Barendt  carried  it  for  you  :  '  Dear  Uncle,  —  I 
wish  you  would  talk  to  us.  We  love  you.'  " 

"  I  was  a  very  little  fellow  when  I  wrote 
that,"  Charley  said. 


MARRIAGE  AND   WIDOWHOOD.  229 

She  drew  him  to  her,  and  kissed  his  forehead, 
as  if  he  were  a  child.  "  Charley,"  she  said  again, 
"  from  the  moment  his  wife  died  (and  she  was 
lovely,  —  she  was  very  lovely!),  your  father  has 
been  strange  in  one  thing,  —  noble  and  great  in 
every  thing,  strange  in  one  single  thing.  He 
made  me  take  you  for  my  own.  I  never  could 
bring  him  to  claim  you  again.  But  all  that  he 
has,  fame  and  character  and  fortune,  are  for 
you  ;  and,  on  the  instant  when  he  heard  that 
you  were  away  from  home,  wandering,  he  was 
struck  down,  as  if  an  axe  had  struck  him.  He 
has  made  a  great  change  for  him,  too,  Charley. 
He  has  come  over  here !  He  's  living  in  this 
house ! " 

As  may  be  supposed,  Charles  looked  aston 
ished,  as  if  she  had  told  him  that  one  of  the 
great  elms  at  the  foot  of  the  garden  had  moved 
itself,  and  taken  a  new  place. 

There  was  a  gentle  knocking  at  the  door ;  and 
she  sent  him  to  it.  Mr.  Barendt  was  there, 
with  Mary.  "  Charley,"  said  he,  "  now  for 
the  great  thing !  "  and,  putting  his  arm  across 
the  lad's  shoulders,  led  him  over  to  what  used 


230     .  MR.  SCHERMERHORN'S 

to  be  called  the  Play-room,  whose  door  was  now 
standing  ajar,  and  where  a  fire  was  burning  in 
the  open  chimney.  As  they  went  in,  Mr.  Scher- 
merhorn  was  standing  with  his  back  toward 
them,  and  leaning  on  the  mantel.  Charles  saw 
him,  for  the  first  time,  since  he  had  known  him 
to  be  his  own  father ;  and  it  was  certainly 
a  strange  moment  for  him.  Every  feature 
showed  intense  feeling.  Barendt,  perhaps, 
showed  scarcely  less.  The  new-found  father 
spoke  without  turning  ;  and  his  voice  had  not 
lost  the  dignity  or  the  mellowness,  even,  of  the 
great  speaker ;  but  had  both,  as  it  were,  shrunken 
or  maimed. 

"  I  've  seemed  to  have  my  face  turned  from 
you  always,"  he  said  ;  "  and  now  I  must  really 
turn  it  away,  for  it's  drawn  a  little  out  of 
its  shape.  I  haven't  any  right  to  claim  a  son's 
love  from  you ;  and  I  will  not.  I  will  not 
profess  a  father's  love  for  you :  I  have  no 
right ;  and  it 's  folly  to  think  that  a  man's 
fixed  habits  —  almost  sacred  habits  —  of  years 
will  change  at  a  word.  I  cannot  ask  you  to 
bear  my  name ;  and  I  will  not.  But,  you 


MARRIAGE   AND   WIDOWHOOD.  231 

see,  I  have  made  some  change  ;  and  now  can 
you  let  me  live  near  my  sister,  and  can  you  live 
on,  and  grow  into  a  man  before  us  both  ?  " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  The  eminent 
public  man,  now  smitten  by  disease,  and  so  fal- 
teringly  asserting  the  character  of  father,  stood 
uneasily.  Barendt,  in  silence,  seized  the  son's 
hand,  and  thrust  him  forward. 

"  Yes,  sir  !  "  the  youth  said,  finding  will  and 
voice,  "  I  can." 

In  another  moment,  he  had  even  taken  his 
father's  hand.  The  father  started ;  but,  bend 
ing  down  his  forehead  to  the  mantel-shelf,  held 
the  grasp  for  a  while,  before  gently  letting 
it  go. 

Barendt  looked  earnestly  at  his  friend ;  then 
the  two  went  out. 

Near  the  door,  again,  he  stood  and  listened. 
Then  he  went  to  the  sister's  door,  which  opened 
almost  before  he  knocked.  He  bowed  his  head 
low,  and  said  only  the  two  words,  "  Thank 
God !  " 

There  was  no  answer ;  and  the  door  was 
gently  shut. 


232  MR.    SCHERMERHORN'S 

"  Now,  boy,"  said  Mr.  Barendt,  "  go  and  see 
those  two  girls." 

What  must  we  say  more  ? 

We  cannot  tell  how  it  came  to  be  thought 
that  it  was  Nellie  Bleecker  that  set  Mr.  Ba- 
rendt's  face  toward  the  sea,  when  he  went  forth 
upon  his  search ;  nor  how  she  guessed  the  sea. 
When  Mary  laughingly  questioned  her  about  it, 
she  only  blushed  and  ran  away,  and  would  not 
answer. 

The  kindly  satisfaction  of  the  townspeople, 
we  need  not  tell.  Ten  other  flags,  beside  Mr. 
Van  Home's,  were  flying  within  an  hour.  A 
race  was  got  up  on  the  river. 

Mr.  Barendt,  coming  up  again  in  the  evening, 
and  bringing  Mr.  Parsons,  saw  that  skilful 
planner,  Mr.  Van  Arsdale,  scanning  closely  the 
office-front.  "  There  always  used  to  be  some 
hooks  up  there,"  said  the  man  of  pageants. 

"I  believe  there  were,"  Mr.  Barendt  an 
swered,  now  smiling  freely,  as  he  had  not 
smiled  the  last  time  he  looked  upon  them  at  the 
children's  show.  "  We  can  try  another  thing." 

The  end  was  that  the  respectable  Arion  Sodal- 


MABEIAGE  AND  WIDOWHOOD.  283 

ity  were  allowed  to  play  outside  till  they  had 
satisfied  themselves,  and  then  were  called  in, 
with  Mr.  Van  Arsdale,  and  feasted. 


My  little  light  is  out, 

My  short  work  done ; 

And  as  my  restful  thoughts  yet  glide  about 

My  pretty  scenes  and  shapes,  fondling  each  one, 

If  there  come  chilling  doubt 

How,  in  men's  sight,  my  tender  works  shall  fare, 

I  can  but  say,  "  Nay,  I  have  done  it  well ; 

And  I  will  set  it  forth  to  friendly  air. 

They  in  whom  heart-love  and  quick  insight  dwell 

With  my  own  maker-heart  will  share." 

Yes  !  I  have  wrought  my  best ! 

God  give  us  all  good  rest ! 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 


"  Chi  e  quel  prepotente,"  disse  Renzo,  colla  voce  d'  un  uomo 
che  e  risoluto  d'  ottenere  una  risposta  precisa  :  "  chi  e  quel 
prepotente  che  non  vuole  ch'io  sposi  Lucia?"  —  MANZONI, 
1  Promessi  Sposi,  Vol.  I.  Chap.  II. 

["  Who  is  tliis  mighty  fellow,"  said  Renzo,  with  the  voice  of 
a  man  resolved  to  have  a  precise  answer  :  "  who  is  this  mighty 
fellow  who  won't  have  me  marry  Lucy  ?  "] 


/^\NE  of  those  clearing,  clouding,  showery, 
shiny  days,  which,  often  in  our  climate, 
coming  too  late  for  April,  take  up  a  large  share 
of  May,  was  showing  out  its  character  and  pro 
pensities  very  likely  in  other  places,  but  surely 
at  that  end  of  Fort  Street  which  comes  out  on 
the  river,  near  the  old  ferry,  and  which  gives 
one,  who  is  even  hurrying  across  it,  a  beautiful 
and  refreshing  glimpse,  in  hot  weather,  of  the 
smooth,  cool  water  stretching  over  to  bending 
trees  and  shrubs  on  the  opposite  bank.  A  very 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          235 

respectable  elderly  gentleman,  of  (let  us  say) 
four  or  five  generations  back,  —  the  time  of  one 
George  the  Second,  of  ungracious  memory, — 
with  a  very  respectable  elderly  lady,  (may  we 
not  say,  although  ladies'  ages  are  not  governed 
by  time,  a  lady  of  the  same  fourth  generation 
back  ?)  was  walking  down  toward  the  river. 

As  sidewalks  then  were,  in  the  old  town,  and 
in  that  thoroughfare,  "  Schans-Reede,"  or  Re 
doubt-Road,  as  it  was  once  called,  it  was  not 
possible  for  the  two  to  walk  always  side  by  side. 
When  the  day  opened  a  hole  in  the  clouds,  and 
let  the  warm  sun  shine  through,  then  the  lady, 
going  on  by  herself  in  front,  with  a  quick,  light 
pattering  of  her  pattens,  would  fling  up  over 
her  head  a  green  silk  shelter,  as  much  out  of 
proportion  to  her  own  brisk  little  body  as  the 
stretch  of  a  banyan-tree  must  be  to  its  original 
stem.  When,  again,  the  whimsical  day  began 
sprinkling  things  and  beings  with  his  fine  drops 
of  water,  then  the  gentleman,  regardless  of  the 
mire,  —  for  the  soles  of  his  white-buckled  shoes 
were  thick  and  their  heels  high,  and  he  had  no 
ankle -cumbering  trousers  to  catch  the  mud, 


2C6          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

but  had,  instead,  the  good,  glossy  stockings  of 
the  time  when  men  had  legs,  —  would  step  away 
from  the  narrow  planking  to  the  lady's  side, 
and,  tucking  his  ivory-headed  walking-stick 
under  his  arm,  would  throw  up  over  her  head 
and  over  her  silken  dress  a  still-wider-spreading 
green  shelter,  whose  staff  was  like  a  weaver's 
beam. 

So  they  were  going  down  to  the  ferry,  which 
at  the  time  was  thronged  with  men,  black  and 
white  (and  some  women  of  the  same  colors),  and 
toward  which  men  and  boys  (and  some  women 
again)  were  hurrying.  On  the  water  itself 
was  a  good  deal  of  stir,  where  were  floating 
several  loaded  bateaux.  A  number  of  large 
wagons,  standing  near,  made  the  crowd  seem 
greater. 

"  There  's  Mr.  Justice  Beekman,  as  early  as  it 
is,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  at  Van  Slyck  and 
Van  Schaack's  boat ;  and  Van  Schaack  looking 
stout  and  hearty  again !  Now  will  Peter 
Sickels  be  too  busy  among  them,  to  be  for 
going  down  the  river?  Good  day  to  you, 
Jacob!  Have  you  any  truck  from  the  west? 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          237 

And  where,  think  ye,  shall  we  find  Peter  Sick- 
els,  in  all  this  hurly-burly?  " 

The  man  of  whom  he  asked  this  question  —  a 
tallish  man,  of  thirty  years  or  so  —  was  stand 
ing  with  one  foot  on  a  stoep  higher  by  three  or 
four  steps  than  the  sidewalk,  and  with  the  other 
holding  back  on  the  threshold ;  and,  while  there 
hung  from  his  mouth  a  long  clay  pipe,  he  was 
looking  down  over  his  large,  silver-rimmed  (or 
copper-rimmed)  spectacles  upon  the  busy  scene 
at  the  ferry-landing.  Called  back  by  the  words 
from  the  object  of  his  contemplation,  he  turned 
his  head,  and  looked  askant  and  downward, 
with  slow  eyes,  much  like  a  very  big  but  harm 
less  bird,  at  the  wayfarers  ;  and  then,  with  some 
thing  of  awkward  ceremony,  saluted  them. 

"No,  no,  Doem'nie,"  he  answered,  "it  isn't 
for  me  to  have  any  truck  coming  from  back- 
country  :  no,  no  !  As  for  Pete  Sickels  "  (mod 
erating  his  voice,  and  looking  down  toward  the 
water  again,  while  he  spoke),  "it's  like  he'll 
leave  his  ferry  business  any  time,  for  any  stir 
he  can  find  :  he  's  a  —  Well,  there  's  a  kind  of 
sea-birds — I've  read  in  my  priccly  book,  you 


238          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

know,  Hendrick  de  Laet's  History,  —  that  is,  in 
the  Dutch  of  it,  but  looking  as  well  to  the 
Latin  "  — 

"  I  'm  afraid  that  writer 's  not  very  plain, 
neighbor  Vorhagen,"  said  the  brisk  lady,  who, 
after  walking  on  a  little  way,  had  turned  round, 
to  wait :  "  it  always  takes  you  so  long  to  say, 
as  often  as  I  hear  you  quoting  from  him." 

The  Dominie  laughed  a  good  hearty  laugh, 
and,  lifting  his  cocked  hat,  wiped  his  brow. 

"No  offence,  schoolmaster,"  he  said;  "but 
Jan  de  Laet,  I  think,  was  his  name.  I  've 
heard  you  speak  of  those  birds :  what  these 
English  sailors,  like  Willem  Satterlee,  call 
4  Mother  Carey's '  "  — 

"Willem  Satterlee,  sir,"  said  Vorhagen,  in 
the  same  subdued  voice  in  which  he  had  spoken 
of  Sickels,  —  "I  don't  know  what  for  a  seaman 
he's  been,  but  for  a  schrijnwerker,* —  what 
he  is  now" —  He  looked  up  the  street  and 
across  it  to  the  corner,  where  a  substantial  yel 
low  brick  house  was  standing,  surrounded  by  a 
fellowship  of  substantial  trees.  The  Dominie's 

*  Cabinet-maker. 


MASTER  VOKHAGEN'S  WIFE.  239 

broad  face  was  so  good-humored  and  his  voice 
so  cheery  that  he  could  not  be  thought  to  be 
teasing.  He  followed  with  his  eyes  the  direc 
tion  in  which  Vorhagen  had  glanced,  and  where 
no  human  thing  was  to  be  seen,  and  said,  — 

"He  made  a  pretty  kas  *  for  your  wife, 
Jacob,  they  tell  me:  wasn't  it  good?  " 

"  It 's  likely  good :  she  didn't  take  it  from 
him ;  but  I  haven't  the  keeping  of  her,"  Mees- 
ter  Vorhagen  answered,  rather  solemnly  than 
bitterly,  and  looking  again,  as  for  relief,  to  the 
ferry,  where  a  great  hubbub  and  uproar  were 
rising. 

"  Take  care,  Madam  Van  Schaats  !  "  cried  the 
Dominie,  who  was  not  so  taken  up  with  Vor 
hagen  as  not  to  see  and  hear  other  persons 
and  things.  "  You  'd  best  step  up  on  Jacob's 
stoep,  for  a  little.  These  big  wagons,  in  muddy 
ways,  are  not  the  things  for  ladies'  good  clothes. 
With  your  leave,  neighbor  Vorhagen,"  he 
added,  as,  giving  a  hand  to  Madam  Van  Schaats, 
he  led  her  to  the  little  wooden  platform. 

The  lively  lady,  for  her  part,  had  no  sooner 
*  Cabinet.  The  word  has  come  down  to  our  day. 


240          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

found  her  standing,  than  like  a  bird,  singing 
the  moment  it  lights  upon  a  twig,  she  began :  — 

"  To  me  it  seems  surer  you  should  have  taken 
her  into  your  own  keeping,  while  you  might, 
neighbor:  for  a  woman  like  that  it's  easy 
making  friends." 

A  slow  puff  of  smoke  rose  from  Meester  Vor- 
hagen's  pipe,  and  he  took  off  his  spectacles. 
Some  very  weighty  answer  may  have  been 
forthcoming;  but,  just  now,  one  of  the  wagons 
that  the  Dominie  had  spoken  of,  drawn  by  four 
great  pounding  horses,  almost  as  thoroughly 
covered  with  harness  as  a  tortoise  with  shell, 
came  lumbering  up  the  way,  attended  and  fol 
lowed  by  shouting  of  two  or  three  black  men, 
while  a  black  urchin  or  two,  with  shrill  outcry, 
holding  to  some  rope,  stumbled  in  the  mud 
behind,  or  sprawled  in  it,  flung  off  by  a  lurch 
of  the  huge  wain.  At  such  a  mischance,  the 
other  little  ragamuffins  jeered ;  the  Dominie  and 
his  company  smiled  good-naturedly. 

"  If  you  could  only  hold  school  over  these 
two  Pinkster*  days,  Jacob,  it  would  be  good, 

*  Pentecost  (Whitsuntide). 


MASTER  VOHAHGEN'S  WIFE.  241 

wouldn't  it  ?  "  the  Dominie  asked,  as  soon  as  the 
noise,  going  beyond  them,  gave  them  leave  to 
speak  again.  At  the  same  time,  he  held  out  his 
hand  to  lead  Madam  Van  Schaats  down.  "I 
mean,"  he  added,  "if  we  could  keep  the  youth 
from  these  feestdaage  *  that  are  no  good." 

The  schoolmaster  looked  a  little  worried  and 
fidgety.  Two  white  boys  were  near  enough  to 
hear;  and  when  are  boys  not  quick  to  catch 
such  words  as  "  school,"  "  keep  in,"  "  holiday," 
among  their  elders  ? 

"  If  you  could  keep  the  older  people  away," 
he  said,  with  a  look  of  trouble  on  his  face. 

The  lady,  as  she  went  clattering  briskly 
down  the  steps,  said, — 

"  The  poor  onderwijzer  f  could  no  more  hold 
the  youngsters  in,  on  these  days,  than  he  could 
hold  an  armful  of  water."  And,  bowing  to  the 
schoolmaster,  she  walked  on. 

"  The  boys  know  pretty  well  what  kracht  $ 
I  have  in  keeping-in,"  said  the  man,  whose 
might  had  been  handled  so  lightly.  "  The 

*  Feasts  or  festivals.          f  Master.         J  Might. 
11 


242          MASTER  VOKHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

master  is  like  the  king.  You  know  that  pretty 
well,  boys?" 

"  I  should  think  so  !  "  said  one  of  the  two 
boys,  emphatically.  "  So  should  I !  "  said  the 
other,  with  like  stress ;  and  both  smiled. 

The  Dominie  shook  his  good-humored  head 
and  wig  at  them.  "Always  be  a  good  boy, 
Derrick,"  he  said. 

"  You  hear  what  she  says  about  the  hand 
some  Jannetje,"  said  he  to  the  master,  aside. 
"  She  says  what 's  true,  my  friend.  I  take  leave 
to  say  it 's  not  treating  well  that  very  fine  young 
woman,  if  you  don't  take  her,  or  let  some  other 
take  her."  And  then,  with  longer  steps,  he  fol 
lowed  the  lady,  and  shortly  came  up  with  her. 

"  Whenever  I  see  that  young  man,  Bernar- 
dus,"  she  said,  without  turning,  as  he  drew 
near,  "  I  wonder  me  at  Jane  Sickels's  father,  — 
what  he  could  wish  her  to  marry  such  a  mullein- 
stick  for !  Schoolmaster !  fiddle  for  his  school- 
mastery,  if  he  hasn't  got  any  more  good  heart 
in  him!" 

"  If  the  father  hadn't  laid  it  on  her,  Alida," 
he  answered,  •"  it  wouldn't  hurt  me  to  see  her 


MASTER  VOEHAGEN'S  WIFE.          243 

drop  him  off.  It  is  a  shame  and  a  pity  !  Per 
haps  she  may.  Good  morning,  Mr.  Justice ! 
Good  morning,  neighbors!"  And,  receiving 
their  answering  greetings,  he  led  Madam  Van 
Schaats  into  the  crowd. 

It  was  a  little  hard  to  thread  their  way  safely 
through  'men  and  women,  and  horses  and 
wagons  at  the  dock ;  but  every  one  knew  them, 
and  made  it  as  easy  as  might  be.  Peter  Sick- 
els  was  almost  the  first  man  whom  they  met, 
near  the  water.  He  had  a  bait-box  in  his  hand. 
He  was  a  spare  man,  with  brown  face  and 
plenty  of  black  beard. 

"  So  you  're  going  down  the  river,  friend 
Peter,"  said  the  Dominie.  "  Can  you  take  two 
passengers  as  far  as  Joseph  Wygandt's  ?  I  sup 
pose  Hank  '11  keep  the  ferry  very  well  on  such 
a  day." 

"  Surely,  Dominie,  and  you  're  welcome  ;  .only 
the  boat  isn't  fit  for  such  as  you  are.  It 's 
mussy,  you  know,  and  the  Madam  '11  get  her 
skirts  soiled.  You  see  I  dress  myself  o'  pur 
pose."  (His  dress  was  a  worsted  roundabout 
and  corduroy  breeches,  with  thick  stockings  and 


244          MASTER  VOKHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

stout  shoes.)  "  The  woman  wants  a  little  fresh 
fish  (and  we  all  like  it  very  well),  and  so  I  go." 

"  Good  reason,"  said  the  other,  laughing, 
"  and  good  for  us,  and  seems  to  hold  good  with 
you,  every  now  and  again,  friend  Peter,  to  give 
you  a  little  change.  But  see  !  We  '11  stretch 
this  good  coat  for  the  lady  to  sit  on,  and  I  '11 
pull  an  oar  with  you,  if  you  will." 

"  That  would  hardly  be  fitting,  to  leave  you 
in  shirt-sleeves,  Doem'nie,"  said  the  ferry- 
master. 

"  Every  man  skipper  of  his  own  boat,  neigh 
bor  Peter,"  answered  the  pastor,  who  had  evi 
dently  sound  principles.  "  I  shall  do  your  bid 
ding  oil  board  your  craft." 

A  little  further  down  the  river-bank,  near  a 
broad,  smooth  stone,  was  Sickels's  wherry,  in 
which  a  seat  was  soon  wiped,  after  some 
fashion;  and  the  lady,  daintily  enough,  but 
without  wasting  time  or  words,  seated  herself. 

As  this  took  some  time,  Dominie  Van  Schaats 
in  the  mean  while  addressed  himself  to  Justice 
Beekmaii,  a  short,  well-dressed  man,  with  heavy 
brows  and  thick  lips. 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          245 

"  Can  I  have  a  word  with  you,  Mr.  Justice  ?  " 
he  asked  :  "  it 's  for  the  public  good." 

Mr.  Justice  Beekman  had  more  than  one  eye, 
and  an  eye'  for  more  than  one  business.  He 
answered  quickly,  — 

" '  Any  suit  or  controversy  not  over  forty  shil 
ling,'  the  law  is ;  but,  if  the  parties  are  willing, 
pretty  nearly  any  thing.  I  have  a  small  fee 
for  extra  trouble  ('  thou  shalt  not  muzzle  the 
thrashing  ox,?  that  is),  but  then  —  for  your 
clot^  Doem'nie  "  —  with  a  wave  of  the  hand. 

He  set  himself  beside  the  pastor,  turning  so 
as  to  face  toward  the  bateau  from  which  he 
had  just  come,  and,  pursing  his  lips,  lent  his 
ears,  while  his  eyes,  from  under  his  heavy 
brows,  were  fastened  upon  the  men  whom  he 
had  left. 

"  I  'm  troubled  about  this  Pinkster-work 
among  our  blacks,"  said  the  pastor  (the  jus 
tice  gave  a  glance  at  him) :  "  the  drunkenness 
and  wickedness"  — 

"  So !  "  said  the  justice. 

"  I  am  on  my  way  to  neighbor  Wygandt's  now. 
Is  there  nothing  we  can  do  to  check  these  days 


246          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

of  debauchery,  think  you,  Justice  Beekman  ? 
"We  can  have  pitching  of  the  bar  at  neighbor 
Wygandt's  feast,  without  drinking ;  and  we 
can  have  just  a  run  of  farmers'  horses  without 
drinking.  We  can  set  an  example." 

"  When  they  commit  an  offence,  then  we  can 
try  it,"  said  the  man  of  law. 

"  But,"  said  the  pastor,  "  can  we  not,  some 
how,  stop  the  sale  of  strong  waters  "  — 

"  They  pay  his  Majesty's  duties  and  excise," 
answered  the  justice,  making  a  sign  with  his 
hand  to  direct  something  at  the  boat,  while  he 
spoke:  "they  pay  one-half  of  the  king's  reve 
nue." 

"  But  just  at  this  time,  to  keep  it  from  blacks 
and  whites  both,  at  Pinkster-Hollow  ?  " 

"  How  can  we  do  it,  you  see,  Doem'nie? — No 
power  "  —  ("  Stay,  Hans ! "  he  called  to  the  boat) 
— "  but  let  them  do  a  trespass,  Doem'nie,  let 
them  break  the  peace,  then  see  !  —  By  the  way, 
do  you  know  how  it  is  with  the  schoolmaster 
now,  Dominie  Van  Schaats  ?  Will  he  marry 
our  Jufvrouw  Sickels  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear,  no ! "  the  pastor  answered.  "  I 
hope  not.  That 's  a  little  too  bad  !  " 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          247 

"  It 's  needful  to  foreclose  a  little  mortgage 
or  two,  —  an  easy  thing :  it  will  be  good  for 
him." 

The  pastor  saw  how  busy  Justice  Beekman 
was  ;  and  he  saw  that  he  himself,  in  his  inno 
cence,  had  given  needless  information :  he 
kneV,  too,  that  Mr.  Sickels  was  waiting.  He 
hastened  to  say  that  he  meant  that  "  the  school 
master  was  slow,"  and  then  took  formal  leave, 
and  went  to  his  place  in  the  wherry. 

Now  the  ferry-master,  having  persuaded  the 
good  Dominie  that  it  was  easy  work  for  one 
man,  with  the  current,  took  both  oars,  and 
with  steady  strokes  soon  left  the  turmoil  of 
the  landing  behind. 

"  Wygandt,  I  suppose,  is  very  busy  these 
days,  with  his  barn-raising  and  getting  ready 
for  his  Pinkster-feast  ? "  said  the  oarsman. 
"The  jobmen  are  few  for  there,  and  here  at 
the  river,  too." 

The  Dominie  looked  grave. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  suppose  so  ;  though  I 
wish  well  we  could  get  rid  of  the  blacks' 
Pinkster-business.  All  that  drunkenness  and 
debauchery  is  no  good  for  us." 


248          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

The  lady  shook  her  lively  head,  and  set  her 
eyes  upon  Sickels,  to  see  what  answer  he  would 
make. 

"  But,  Dominie,"  he  said,  "  whether  isn't  it 
better  the  servants  should  have  their  fling-out, 
with  their  masters  looking  on,  than  to  go  out 
into  the  woods  somewheres,  by  themselves,  and 
lie  round  drunken?  These  blacks  can't  take 
care  of  themselves." 

"Ay,  friend  Peter,"  said  the  pastor;  "and 
is  this  taking  Christian  care  of  them,  to  give 
them,  as  you  say,  their  fling-out,  with  rum  and 
idleness  and  wickedness?  We'll  send  away 
our  Tom  for  a  few  days,  and  we  '11  give  the 
house-wenches  an  entertainment  for  themselves. 
What 's  this  story  about  the  big  Indian,  Koos- 
kanagharas  ?  They  don't  look  for  our  doughty 
constable,  Wessell  Hagadorn,  to  catch  him  ?  " 

"  You've  sent  away  Tom?  "  the  rower  asked, 
with  some  interest,  perhaps,  in  the  experiment. 
"  About  Kooskanagharas,  I  think,  is  only  a 
boys'  story.  It 's  said  some  chickens  are 
missed,  and  a  sucking-pig.  Your  Tom,  I  be 
lieve,  saw  him." 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          249 

"  The  boy 's  here  yet,"  said  Tom's  master ; 
ubut  we  will  send  him  away  in  good  time." 

"  You  think  Tom  ought  to  have  his  fun,  like 
the  rest?"  asked  Madam  Van  Schaats,  who 
had  looked  sharply  in  his  face.  "  I  think  per 
haps  Master  Tom  would  say  the  same  thing." 
And  she  spread  her  sun-shelter,  and  brushed 
some  speck  from  her  husband's  coat ;  giving 
him  first  a  little  thrust  with  a  finger. 

"  The  old  town  looks  pretty  from  the  water  !  " 
said  Sickels,  whose  face  was,  of  course,  turned 
up  the  stream.  "  I  should  like  to  see  those 
things  all  brought  right,  Doem'nie :  they  ought 
to  be,  no  doubt,  only  not  too  fast." 

"  Jacob  Vorhagen's  house,  for  instance,"  said 
the  Dominie,  after  turning  round  and  looking. 
"  Good  place  for  a  wife^  Peter,  eh  ? —  He  ought 
to  keep  his  chimneys  up,  though." 

"  Um  !  "  said  Sickels,  with  a  sort  of  growl : 
"  she  '11  throw  him  overboard,  if  she  follows  my 
advice.  What  business  has  that  fellow,  that 
hasn't  got  the  heart  of  a  pig,  to  pretend .  to 
keep  her  tied  fast  by  the  foot  to  him  ?  " 

The  good-humored  pastor  laughed,  but  said, 
11* 


250          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

striking  his  cane  on  the  thwart  in  front, 
"  What,  man !  would  you  put  asunder  man 
and  wife  ?  Now,  if  it  wasn't  for  breaking 
plight,  I'd  go  with  you,  Peter." 

"  If  you  believe  me,  Doem'nie,  there  was 
never  any  troth-plight  about  it.  That  good- 
for-nought  goes  to  old  uncle  Tunis  Sickels,  and 
makes  uncle  think  he 's  a  learned  man ;  and 
then  there  was  all  this  Vorhagen  property, 
here,  that  used  to  run  down  into  the  river  :  he 
made  the  old  man  believe  it  was  half  his. — 
You  've  heard  all  this  ?  —  And,  to  this  day,  he 
never  called  her  kinder  than  'Jufvrouw  Sick- 
els,'  and  would  have  her  call  him  4  Onderwijzer 
Vorhagen,'  or  4  Schoolmaster  Vorhagen,'  or 
'  Heer  Onderwijzer,'  or  c  Mister  Schoolmaster,' 
and,  in  an  evening,  for  diversion,  would  read 
to  her  how  Sarah  obeyed  Abraham,  and  called 
him  '  Lord.' " 

Dominie  Van  Schaats  smiled.  He  said  only  : 
"  I  've  heard  of  that  book  of  Johannes  de 
Laet's  he  'has  ;  but  I  'm  listening,  friend.  Go 
on,  if  you  please.  We  're  both  good  friends  of 
Jannetje's,  and  wish  her  happy." 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          251 

Thus  exhorted,  Peter  Sickels  went  on :  — 

"  Now  there  isn't  enough  of  that  Vorhagen 
property  belonging  to  this  Jake  to  bury  him  in. 
It 's  all  slipped  away,  or  mortgages  been  piled 
up  on  it,  till  he 's  paying  more  interest  than 
that  rat-house's  rent,  twice  or  three  times  over. 
Gerardus,  his  brother,  took  off  all  the  wit  they 
had,  and  pretty  much  all  the  money,  when  he 
went  off  to  the  farm.  This  Jacob  's  in  a  peck 
of  trouble,  now,  for  five  English  pounds.  I 
should  not  wonder  but  it'll  finish  him.  His 
cousin's  husband,  Joseph  Wygandt,  here,  has 
helped  him  once  too  often." 

"  But  about  the  old  gentleman,  friend  Peter  : 
did  he  send  for  Jane,  and  put  their  hands  to 
gether,  and  promise  her  his  blessing,  if  she  mar 
ried  him  ?  " 

Sickels  rested  on  his  oars,  to  answer. 

"  Whoever  told  you  that,  Doem'nie,  he  wasn't 
making  good  use  of  his  time,  nor  yours.  Uncle 
Tunis  was  pretty  wise,  in  his  day.  Only  he 
thought  a  great  deal  of  '  learning,'  and  he 
thought  this  dumb-head,  Jake  Vorhagen,  was 
4  learned  ; '  and,  then,  here  was  the  land,  running 


252          MASTER  VOKHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

right  along  with  uncle's  land,  down  into  the 
water.  So  he  said, 4  Jennie,  this  man  wants  you 
to  be  his  wife,  of  all  the  girls  in  town.  If  you 
can  love  him,  I  wish  you  would.  The  Good 
Book  says  learning's  better  than  house  and 
land  (and  he  's  got  the  house  and  the  land, 
too).'  That's  exactly  the  story:  I've  got  it 
by  heart.  It  was  three  years  before  he  died. 
Daar  is  geen  verlooving,  Doem'nie.  There  is 
no  engagement :  you  may  take  my  word." 

"  Can  you  touch  bottom  here  ? "  Dominie 
Van  Schaats  asked;  and,  turning  quietly,  he 
gently  took  out  of  his  wife's  hand  the  substan 
tial  parasol,  whose  stout  ribs  had  struck  him 
more  than  one  blow  on  his  respectable  hat,  on 
his  shoulder,  and  on  his  neck ;  for  she  was 
sleeping  with  the  same  energy  that  enlivened 
her  waking  hours.  She  roused  herself,  and, 
charging  the  sun  with  the  fault  of  her  dozing, 
shut  up  the  parasol,  and  laid  hold  of  the  con 
versation,  saying,  "  That 's  good  about  Vorha- 
gen's  going  to  Tunis  Sickels  —  and  about  her 
being  tied  by  the  foot  —  /hear." 

Peter  Sickels  was  too  well-mannered  to  see 
any  of  this  little  by-play. 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.  253 

"  Oh,  yes,  anywheres,  Doem'nie,"  he  answered. 
"  Naturally,  a  man  may  be  drowned  in  this  river  ; 
but  he  'd  have  shallow  water  near  him  in  any 
place." 

"  Well,  that 's  a  very  good  story.  How  did 
you  hear  it  ?  Were  you  there  too  ?  " 

"  No,  Wim*  Satterlee  told  me  first.  He  was 
very  sorry,  seeing  how  things  were,  —  why,  do 
you  know  that 's  ten  years  ago,  —  ah,  well,  six 
years,  then,  —  why,  she  was  just  in  her  teens, 
poor  thing !  Now  look  where  she  is !  —  I 
should  like  to  hang  that  fellow  and  his  learning 
up  to  the  church-steeple  !  " 

Again  the  good-natured  pastor  laughed. 

"  There  's  little  love  between  you  two ;  but 
I  don't  think  schoolmaster  Jacob's  learning 
would  put  much  to  his  weight.  So  Wim  Sat 
terlee  is  sorry  for  her,  is  he  ?  —  once  sorry  for 
her,  and  twice  for  himself,  eh  ?  How  did  Mister 
Willem  Satterlee  get  this  story?  Surely,  he 
wasn't  by  ?  "  And  again  he  laughed. 

"  I  see  you  will  have  the  right  of  it,"  said 
Sickels.  "  Satterlee  got  it  of  this  Jake  Vorha- 

*  Dutch  diminutive  for  William. 


254          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

gen  himself,  before  they  were  unfriends.  It  was 
over  that  they  quarrelled.  Wim  shamed  him 
for  being  such  a  dog  in  the  crib.  Then  I  asked 
Jennie,  and  she  said  it  was  just  so,  word  for 
word ;  but  she  wouldn't  tell  me  (what  I  know) 
that  Uncle  Tunis  told  my  mother,  one  day, 
that  Jennie  should  not  be  wasted  for  any  man." 

The  Dominie  twitched  his  wife's  dress  behind 
him. 

"  And  is  Will  Satterlee  very  sorry  for  her  ?  " 
he  asked,  laughing  again,  and  then  turning 
round  on  his  seat  until  he  could  catch  his 
lively  dame's  eye  ;  which  answered  two  pur 
poses,  —  first  of  making  sure  that  she  was 
awake,  and  next  of  sharing  the  fun  with  her. 
"  It 's  a  thing  to  be  sorry  for,  indeed,  though, 
poor  young  woman !  " 

Peter  Sickels  answered,  — 

"  I  hope  he  '11  give  the  other  man  a  little 
of  that  godly  sorrow :  he  has  my  good  wish 
for  it." 

The  lady  now  spoke  again,  showing  that  she 
was  thoroughly  awake, — 

"  Hah !  that  would  give  Meester  Vorhagen  a 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.  255 

little  learning  that  he  might  be  the  better  for, 
I  think,"  said  she. 

"  I  Ve  got  her  promise  that  she  '11  bring  him 
to  his  bearings,  sure,  at  this  feast  of  Wy- 
gandt's,"  said  the  cousin.  "  Here 's  his  way: 
he  appointed  to  meet  her,  here  at  the  ferry, 
to  go  over  to  his  cousin's !  —  But  this  '11  be  the 
last  of  him,  I  hope." 

"  A  good  promise !  keep  her  to  it !  —  And 
here 's  Joseph  Wygandt's ! "  the  pastor  said. 
"  Now,  many  thanks,  friend  Peter  ;  and  see  here, 
if  you  will.  I  think  we  '11  walk  up  on  this  side 
of  the  river  (it 's  only  a  mile)  and  go  over  to 
town  by  the  ferry.  You  needn't  think  of  us 
any  more,  about  getting  back.  It 's  very  likely, 
too,  he  '11  send  us  back  in  his  wagon  to  the 
ferry.  I  've  got  a  little  business  with  him :  it 
may  take  ten  minutes,  it  may  take  an  hour. 
Good  luck  to  your  fishing  !  " 

So,  with  kindly  salutations,  to  which  Madam 
Van  Schaats  added  hers,  with  a  mannerly,  if 
not  a  stately  curtsey,  he  took  leave,  and  with 
his  wife  turned  to  Joseph  Wygandt's. 

"  Bernardus,"  said  the  lady,  as  the  plash  of 


256 


oars  began  to  grow  farther  and  fainter,  "  it  will 
never  do  that  Jannetje  Sickels  should  be  tied  to 
this  bedrieger,  this  niets  beduidend  "  — 

The  worthy  Dominie  stood  still  and  laughed 
a  hearty  laugh,  and  struck  his  great  rain-shelter 
on  the  ground. 

"  Heh !  good,  Alida !  "  he  said,  "  4  cheat,'  and 
'  good-for-n aught ! '  I  think  you  're  giving  the 
man  better  degrees  than  he  '11  ever  get  from 
Leyden  or  Utrecht." 

"  As  well  tie  her  to  a  horse-post,  and  make 
her  keep  step  with  it,"  she  continued,  finishing 
her  sentence.  "  This  other  man,  if  he  were  of 
our  belief  "  — 

"  Het  geloof  is  met  andere  :  his  belief  is  well 
enough.  If  it  had  the  good  word  '  Hollandsch,' 
I  would  like  well  the  English  church-worship 
for  a  most  holy  and  reverend  godsdienst." 

Wygandt's  place  fronted  perhaps  as  much  on 
the  river  (where  it  showed  several  simple 
landing-places,  with  boats  of  various  sizes  and 
shapes)  as  on  the  road  which  lay  along  the 
other  side.  Some  fine  trees,  chiefly  elms,  with 
a  few  maples  and  a  chestnut  or  two,  gave  it  a 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.  257 

look  of  elegance  as  well  as  comfort.  There 
were  gables  enough  upon  the  house  to  make  it 
picturesque,  and  dormer-windows  enough  to 
show  that  convenience  had  been  consulted 
everywhere  in  the  building.  The  cluster  of 
huge  barns,  which  stood  about  a  wide  cattle- 
yard  to  the  westward,  told  of  rich  crops  and  of 
a  good  larder.  A  great  crowd  of  big  timbers 
for  the  frame  of  a  new  barn  —  for  men  did  not 
build  of  laths  or  scantling  or  weather-boards 
in  those  days  —  were  standing  up  against  the 
sky  ;  and  about  them,  below  and  aloft,  white 
men  and  black  men  were  swarming. 

"Do  you  know,  Bernardus,"  said  the  lady, 
as  if  reminded,  "  I  'm  thinking,  from  something 
Peter  Sickels  said,  we  '11  need  to  look  closely 
to  Tom?" 

"  That 's  on  the  Pinkster  days?"  he  answered. 
tk  Oh !  I  don't  think  the  boy  '11  try  to  play  us 
a  trick." 

Dominie  Van  Schaats  and  his  wife  walked 
inward  from  the  river-bank,  with  their  eyes 
fixed  on  the  stirring  scene,  —  the  posts  reared 
slowly  up  and  swaying  in  the  air,  and  the  lithe 


258          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

and  nimble  climbers,  here  and  there ;  and  the 
two  good  people  had  their  ears  filled  with  the 
jargon  of  cries  of  masters  and  men. 

A  great  voice  came  to  them,  as  soon  as  they 
were  near  enough  to  be  hailed. 

"  My  respects  to  you,  Mr.  Doem'nie,  and  wel 
come  ;  and  to  you,  Madam. — Now,  one  more 
lift !  Heave,  all  of  you !  So !  —  If  you  'd  please 
walk  into  the  house :  the  good  woman  's  there. 
We  're  soon  through.  —  Hy !  sway  that  over  the 
other  way.  —  Kindly  excuse  my  being  busy,  for 
a  little  bit,  Doem'nie." 

This  broken  speech  came  from  a  large,  red- 
faced  man,  who  was  standing,  solid  and  heavy, 
on  a  beam  of  the  second  story,  with  an  arm 
round  an  upright  timber,  and  was  fanning  him 
self  with  his  hat.  At  the  last  word,  he  clapped 
his  hat  on  his  head,  and  made  his  way  down 
a  ladder,  followed  by  a  lesser  man,  whose  tow 
apron  and  measuring-stick  showed  him  to  be  a 
carpenter. 

The  farmer  caught  up  from  the  grass,  as  he 
came,  a  good-sized  mug,  and,  having  dipped  it 
in  a  tub  which  was  standing  near,  came  forward 


MASTER  VOKHAGEN'S  WIFE.          259 

with  very  hearty  and  formal  greetings  to  his 
pastor  and  the  lady.  When  he  ended,  the  car 
penter,  on  a  smaller  scale,  went  through  the 
like  courtesy.  Then  the  pastor  congratulated 
the  farmer  on  the  greatness  of  his  new  building, 
and  paid  a  pretty  compliment  to  the  skill  of  the 
builder  also.  Shouts  and  laughter  came  from 
the  men  at  the  frame -raising,  as  if  they  con 
trived  to  amuse  themselves,  somehow,  in  the 
farmer's  absence. 

"  Will  the  good  lady  be  pleased  to  touch  this 
with  her  lips?"  said  the  farmer,  presenting  his 
cup,  courteously  baring  his  head.  "  There 's 
better  inside,"  he  added,  lowering  his  voice,  and 
looking  toward  the  house.  "  This  is  the  work- 
drink." 

Dominie  Van  Schaats,  Who,  as  we  have  seen, 
had  his  mind  stirred  on  the  subject  of  the 
drinking-usages  among  his  flock,  looked  a  little 
uneasy. 

The  lady  daintily  held  the  cup  to  her  lips, 
and  returned  it  with  a  sweeping  curtsey.  Her 
husband,  when  it  was  with  as  much  ceremony 
presented  to  himself,  took  time  to  say,  as  he 
lifted  his  hat  from  his  head,  — 


260          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

"  I  would  that  I  could  honor  your  hospitality, 
friend  Joseph,  without  drinking  rum  to  it.  I  '11 
speak  of  that  when  I  've  time  fitting." 

He  then  put  the  liquor  to  his  mouth,  as 
briefly  as  his  wife  before  him,  and  gave  it  back. 

"  More  thanks,"  he  said,  "  for  the  heart-kind 
ness  than  for  the  drink." 

To  this  sentiment  the  carpenter  gave  his 
assent  with  particular  earnestness  and  solem 
nity  ;  and  the  next  moment  after  the  cup  was 
put  into  his  charge  by  the  farmer,  who  turned 
to  escort  his  guests  into  the  house,  the  man  of 
saws  and  planes  provided  against  spilling  much 
of  the  liquor,  on  his  way  back,  by  taking  a  good, 
steady  draught,  as  he  stood. 

"  Friend  Wygandt,"  said  the  pastor,  "  as  you 
must,  by  all  rules,  go  back  to  your  men  and 
your  work,  I  will  say  what  I  wish,  as  we  walk. 
Pinkster  is  now  close  at  hand.  All  our  blacks 
will  come  out  to  the  wood  :  can  you  not  help  to 
stop  the  shame  and  sin  of  the  time  ?  " 

Then,  as  the  farmer  looked  inquiringly,  he 
said,  "  I  mean,  my  dear  friend,  the  drunkenness 
and  all  the  badness,  that  are  both  a  shame  and 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.  261 

sin  to  us,  on  these  old  heylige  daage,  that  surely 
ought  to  be  otherwise  kept,  if  kept  at  all." 

"  Indeed,  what  I  can,  I  will  gladly  do,"  said 
the  burly  farmer;  "but  the  way  is  not  altogether 
clear.  It  is  my  land ;  but  they  are  everybody's 
arid  nobody's  servants." 

"If  we  could  keep  away  the  rum  and  the 
gin,"  the  pastor  said. 

"  Then,  too,"  said  the  farmer,  "  the  white 
folks  drink  their  liquor,  you  see,"  Here  his  eyes 
turned  to  his  cup-bearer,  the  carpenter,  who, 
before  reaching  the  pond  of  liquor  in  the  tub, 
had  stopped  to  take  another  good  draught  (turn 
ing,  to  be  sure,  his  back,  the  while,  to  the  men 
at  the  frame-raising,  perhaps  to  dimmish  the 
force  of  his  example).  "  I  must  keep  a  free 
house,  Doem'nie  Van  Schaats,  and  I  see  not  well 
how  to  alter.  The  white  people  will  come  out, 
also,  at  Pinkster :  I  must  have  my  Hollands, 
and  my  Geneva,  and  my  whiskey,  all  set  forth 
in  a  row.  Every  man  of  standing  must  do  so, 
or  be  counted  niggardly.  You  know  how  it  is. 
What  can  I  do  ?  " 

The  worthy  pastor's  face  showed  a  bewilder- 


262          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

ment :  here  was  a  swamp  of  most  faithless  foot 
ing,  straight  in  front  of  him,  and  no  way 
forwards  but  through  it. 

"  I  will  set  my  best  example,"  said  the  farmer. 
"  I  will  encourage  no  drinking-bouts,  no  pledg 
ing  of  healths,  no  calling  for  bumpers ;  but  I 
cannot  ask  them  not  to  drink,  in  my  own  house. 
There  it  is !  "  and  the  farmer's  red  face  showed 
more  perplexity  than  that  of  his  guest.  This 
thought  of  churlishness  seemed  too  hard  for 
him. 

"  So  you  will,  good  friend,"  said  his  pastor : 
"  you  will  try  to  do  as  a  Christian  elder  ought. 
It  is  hard  to  begin  "  — 

They  were  near  the  door ;  although  the  far 
mer,  to  bring  his  guests  in  by  an  honorable  way, 
had  gone  by  both  the  hospitable-looking  door  at 
the  back,  under  the  long,  red  roof,  and  a  side- 
door,  with  a  little  roof  of  its  own,  and  led  them 
round  to  the  broad  front  of  the  house,  across 
which  was  stretched  in  letters  and  Arabic  nu 
merals  the  inscription  "  A.  •  1 6  9  8  •  D.,"  and  to  the 
great,  green  front  door,  of  which  the  upper  half 
was  hospitably  open,  and  showed  a  dusky,  wide 


\ 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.  *        263 

hall,  stretching  out  to  some  dim  light  in  the 
distance.  As  the  four  stood  on  the  broad,  worn 
door-stone,  under  the  pent-house  which  covered 
it,  farmer  Wygandt,  having  bestowed  no  little 
strength  in  beating  upon  his  door,  had  come  to 
a  conclusion,  which  he  uttered  as  if  it  offered  a 
safe  and  happy  retreat  from  the  difficulties  and 
perplexities  of  his  situation.  To  understand 
these,  it  must  be  remembered  that  he  was,  on 
the  one  hand,  an  elder  of  the  church ;  and,  on 
the  other,  a  landholder,  forth-standing  and  rich, 
living  on  the  same  ground  on  which  his  father 
and  grandfather  had  lived  before  him. 

"  If  the  Doem'nie  will  please  to  come  out,  at 
the  Pinkster-time,  himself,"  he  said,  "  then  he 
can  set  a  good  pattern  how  every  one  must 
behave." 

He  had  spoken  his  sentence,  and  had  brought 
his  wife  to  the  door  by  his  peal  of  heavy  knock 
ing.  He  now  delivered  ceremoniously  into  her 
charge  his  guests ;  the  Dominie  having  the 
clouds  by  no  means  cleared  from  his  broad  and 
kindly  face. 

"I  will  see,  —  I  will  see,"  he  said:  "the  Pink- 


264          MASTER  VOKHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

ster-frolic  is  no  good  place."  But  he  cut  off  his 
deliberation  to  yield  himself  and  his  party  to 
the  worthy  Dame  Wygandt,  —  a  motherly-look 
ing  person,  not  much  smaller  than  her  husband, 
—  who  took  them  into  the  dim  depths  of  the 
house.  As  we  shall  meet  them  by  and  by,  we 
shall  not  follow  them  now  ;  for  this  visit  has  no 
bearing  upon  our  story. 

The  sun  had  gone  over  quietly,  to  look  at  the 
world  from  the  other  side,  and  had  doubtless, 
long  since,  cast  behind  them  the  shadows  of 
the  homeward-going  Dominie  Bernardus  Van 
Schaats,  and  Madam,  his  wife;  the  cows  had 
been  driven  in  to  the  milking  ;  more  than  one 
little  black  boy,  who  had  been  stealing  his  half 
holiday  in  the  country,  had  gone  lagging  back, 
making  fearful  reckoning,  as  he  went,  how  much 
his  baas  *  would  give  for  the  lie  that  looked  so 
pretty  in  the  earlier  day,  about  the  wolf  that  he 
had  followed  to  get  his  baas  the  bounty ;  or  the 
wondrous  swarm  of  bees,  in  May,  worth  all  a 
load  of  hay ;  when  the  ferry-master,  Sickels, 
having  reeled  up  his  line,  was  softly  rowing  his 

*  Master,  boss. 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          265 

way  up  the  river,  on  the  shady  side.  He  was 
singing  of  "  Een'  oude  vrouw,  die  snuif  ge- 
mind,"  *  when,  over  against  where  a  bridle-path 
met  the  water,  he  became  aware  of  the  sound  of 
a  horse's  hoofs  and  of  a  man's  voice  going  along 
with  it.  Mr.  Sickels  slackened  his  rowing,  and 
called  out,  "  Wie  is  daar  ?  "  f 

"Ben  de  Dominie's  Tom,  Baas  Sickels," 
answered  the  horseman,  who  was  now  to  be 
seen,  astride  of  a  stout  black  pad,  "  ridin'  dis 
horse  ober  to  grass,  for  three  days,  at  Pakter 
Van  Wagenen's."  [This  was  in  Dutch,  as  was 
the  rest :  we  give  it  in  the  English  of  later  gen 
erations  of  his  class,  making  our  English  only  a 
fair  match  for  his  Dutch.] 

"  You  go  straight  on  the  way,  you  rogue  !  " 
said  Mr.  Sickels,  laughing. 

"  Yes,  baas,"  said  the  other.  "  Mus'  water 
him ;  can't  use  a  costly  horse  bad.  I  jes'  wis' 
dey  'd  run  dis  hoss  at  Baas  Wygandt's  Monday. 
Why,  do  you  know  dis  'ere  hoss  beat  any  thing 
dere  is  in  dis  country?  Yes,  baas !  he  '11  do  it." 

"  You  've  tried  him   often  enough,  o'  nights, 

*  An  old  woman  that  liked  snuff.  t  Who 's  there  ? 

12 


266          MASTER  VOEHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

with  the  other  boys  :  you  ought  to  know.  Will 
he  beat  Squire  Beekman's  gray  ?  "  Mr.  Sickels 
asked. 

"Beat  him!  Beat  him  dead's  one  o'  dem 
Dutch  herrin'.  You  min'  what  I  say,  Baas  Sick- 
els.  Some  time  you  '11  see,  —  know'd  you  was 
here,  baas,  —  'stonishin'  ting  'bout  dis  business  ! 
Dis  horse  got  two  shoes  he  '11  drop,  jes'  about 
too  late  to  get  'em  sot,  I  knows  he  will  ;  jes'  as 
sure  's  you  living  man,  he  will.  Den  next  day 
Sunday:  s'pose  Hans  Krukken  set  dem  shoe 
Sunday,  if  I  ahks  'im  :  can'  do  it!  My  baas  's 
Doem'nie,  so,  dere  !  can'  get  on  !  Den  nex' 
day  's  Pinkster  :  bad  day  for  niggers  to  be 
round,  Baas  Sickels." 

"  Why  didn't  you  get  them  set  before  you 
started,  you  rascal?"  Mr.  Sickels  asked, 

"  Couldn'  stop,  Baas  Peter,  —  couldn'  stop  ; 
was  on  Doem'nie  's  business.  I  alla's  seen  it, 
'bout  dis  Pinkster-time  :  you  's  tied  up  :  you  try 
to  go  :  you  can't  go.  Like  a  man  walks  in  a 
wood,  en  conies  right  round  'gain." 

Mr.  Sickels  laughed. 

"  I  'spec'  de'  '11  be  great  times   o'   Monday, 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          267 

baas,"  and  here  Tom  shook  and  swayed  about 
on  his  horse,  with  laughter:  uthe  school-boys 
tell  me  (I  don'  gib  no  names,  baas,  but  one  ob 
'em  won'ful  like  yours,  baas)  dat  big  Injin  goin' 
to  be  cotch,  and  kep  in  the  school,  tell  dey  can 
sen'  him  to  Fort  York." 

Here  he  laughed  again,  as  thoroughly  as  be 
fore.  Mr.  Sickels,  meanwhile,  sat  in  his  boat, 
holding  with  an  oar  to  the  bank,  and  smiling 
upon  the  negro's  merriment.  Tom  seemed  to 
know  just  how  far  he  might  go  with  the  white 
man  to  whom  he  was  talking.  He  ran  on 
freely :  "  Mynheer  baas  Jacob  Schoolmaster  wants 
keep  school,  a  little,  Pinkster :  so,  'course,  dese 
good  boys  '11  let  him  "  (here  another  burst  of 
laughter).  "  You  see  if  Baas  Saddle-tree  don' 
get  a  chance  to  walk  along  o'  Miss^Jannetje 
dat  day! — Come,  Doem'nie!"  (to  his  horse) 
"  now  walk  off,  so  's  not  to  hurt  you'se'f  !  —  Sar- 
bant,  Baas  Sickels  !  —  Mebbe  vtsgit  a  runfo'  dis 
hoss,  Monday,  after  all." 

Mr.  Sickels,  having  listened  with  amused 
curiosity  to  all  this,  now  shoved  his  wherry's 
bow  into  the  stream.  As  the  black  boy  turned 
off,  the  ferry- master  called  after  him,  —  • 


268          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

"  Take  care  the  Doem'nie  doesn't  catch  you 
fooling,  you  boy!  'and  remember  the  watch- 
house  for  niggers,  after  dark!" 

The  black  took  a  more  cheery  view  of  things. 

"I  got  my  paper  o'  leab,  Baas  Sickels,"  he 
said,  "  as  good 's  de  king's.  De  Doem'nie  he 
knows  I  don'  git  drunk,  nor  I  don'  'buse  a 
hoss"- 

"  I  think,"  Mr.  Sickels  called  out  again,  "  I  've 
seen  you  riding  a  little  faster  than  you  're  going 
now." 

At  this  the  black  smiled  broadly,  but  went  on, 
"  Es  fo'  det  watch-house,  I  don'  'spec'  to  'spose 
dis  hoss  to  de  night  air ! "  And  so  Tom  rode 
away. 

Pinkster,  or  Whitsunday,  has  no  mark  of  its 
own  in  the  Hollandish  worship ;  but,  as  our 
readers  would  expect,  good  Dominie  Van  Schaats, 
having  his  heart  and  mind  stirred  by  the  evil 
wrought  among  his  flock  by  the  ill-keeping 
of  the  Pinkster-holidays,  used  the  day  to  give 
wholesome  rede  and  warning.  As  the  day  was 
most  bright,  so  the  kerk  was  thronged ;  and  he 
had  plenty  of  hearers.  The  singers  (taking  in 


MASTER  VOKHAGEN'S  WIFE.  269 

a  few  blacks  in  their  far-off  gallery)  cheered 
and  gladdened  the  service,  which  without  them 
might  have  been  a  little  longsome.  "Every 
person  of  standing  and  weight  must  throw 
himself  on  the  good  side,"  the  pastor  said,  "  not 
against  harmless  fun  and  frolic,  but  against  sin 
and  mischief." 

Meester  Vorhagen  turned  round  at  the  sing 
ing,  in  which  the  fair  and  comely  maiden  Jan- 
netje  Sickels  bore  a  melodious  part,  and  peered 
over  his  spectacles,  first  at  her,  and  then  (stealth 
ily)  over  the  congregation,  perhaps  to  see  if 
there  were  among  them  any  other  pretender 
to  her  favor -than  himself. 

It  was  whispered  about  after  the  service 
that  Dominie  Van  Schaats  and  the  Madam  were 
likely  to  be  at  the  games  and  the  run,  before 
the  feast  at  farmer  Wygandt's,  to  be  near  the 
black  people's  Pinkster-sports,  and  so  help  to 
keep  down  misrule  and  misbehavior.  As  may 
be  supposed,  other  worthy  people  meant  to 
be  there  also.  Mr.  Justice  Beekman  gave  out 
that  he  himself  meant  to  go  over. 

Pinkster-Monday  was  as  fine  as  the  day  be- 


270          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

fore.  The  sun  came  early,  and,  brushing  away 
all  clouds  and  mists,  looked  with  his  broad, 
handsome  face  over  the  whole  valley,  and  into 
as  many  parts  of  it  as  he  could  see.  Forth 
came  the  birds,  bright  and*  early,  and  twittered 
and  lilted  and  warbled,  with  voices  mellowed 
in  fresh  dew,  on  the  boughs  and  fences.  Be 
fore  the  birds,  black  faces  glossy  and  merry, 
of  men  and  women,  had  looked  out  at  the  face 
of  the  sky  and  at  each  other  ;  and  many  a  saucy 
and  many  a  flattering  and  —  sooth  to  say  — 
many  a  twitting  word  had  floated  across  the 
dewy  air  almost  before  the  bird-songs.  A  sud 
den  scraping  of  fiddle-strings,  a  sharp  blast  of 
a  tin  horn,  a  short,  strong  rub-a-dub  on  a  drum, 
laugh,  song,  and  most  melodious  whistle,  had 
come  up,  like  so  many  puffs  of  life,  from  the 
shady  streets  and  flowery  gardens,  and  from 
among  the  sharp  gables  of  the  good  old  town. 
In  short,  the  town  was  early  astir ;  and  if  the 
foremost  share  of  air  and  sunlight  had  been 
given  to  the  blacks,  later  and  more  slowly,  as 
if  with  a  feeling  that  no  responsibility  was  upon 
them  for  what  the  day  was  to  bring  forth,  the 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          271 

white  masters  and  mistresses,  and  boys  and 
girls,  and  the  many  who  were  neither  slaves  nor 
masters,  had  greeted  the  morning,  and  were 
drinking  their  tea  arid  eating  their  buttered 
corn-cake  and  wheaten  bread  and  bacon  or 
eggs,  boiled  or  fried,  or  whatever  they  had  and 
liked. 

Somehow  or  other,  it  happened  that,  before 
the  day  had  long  had  possession  of  the  world, 
Mr.  William  Satterlee,  cabinet-maker  and  whi 
lom  sailor,  a  very  likely  and  even  yet  a  sailor- 
like  young  man,  was  by  the  landing  at  the  foot 
of  Fort  Street,  about  which  also,  on  land  and 
water,  were  swarming  a  little  bustling  crowd 
of  different  colors.  There  was  the  ferry-boat, 
waiting  for  its  freight ;  and  there,  beside  ba 
teaux  from  the  back  country,  were  floating 
strange  craft  of  many  shapes  and  sizes,  over 
which  were  much  chattering  and  laughing  and 
(when  does  it  happen  otherwise?)  some  quar 
relling  of  the  black  and  dusky  occupants. 

There  was,  moreover,  a  red,  round-faced 
little  man,  whom,  even  at  this  early  hour,  the 
bateau-men  were  plying  with  "  strong- waters," 


272          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

assuring  him  that  "  good  drink  was  going  to  be 
stopped  by  law;  the  Doem'nie  and  the  justice 
had  planned  it  together."  This  little  man  they 
called  "Con,"  and  "Stawble,"  and  "  Stop- 
sel"  (English  "stopple"),  and  "Haggy,"  and 
"  Dorny." 

The  wearer  of  these  many  nicknames  took 
on,  in  turns,  a  steady  look,  and  a  merry  look, 
and  an  official  look,  and  a  hail-fellow  look,  as 
the  drink  touched  different  corners  in  him. 

If  Satterlee  was  there  to  see  the  motley 
gathering,  or  to  launch  a  new  and  very  shapely 
and  tasteful  wherry,  of  which,  as  it  appeared, 
he  himself  had  been  the  maker,  this  was  not 
his  whole  business.  Mr.  Peter  Sickels,  the 
ferry-owner,  having  a  little  spare  time  on  his 
hands,  strolled  along  the  sandy  edging  of  the 
water,  and,  as  if  by  some  understanding,  the 
two  met,  and  were  at  once  in  earnest  conver 
sation,  away  from  the  little  throng.  That  they 
were  talking  of  something  about  which  Satter- 
lee's  feelings  were  strong,  might  be  seen  from 
what  he  did  while  he  talked  or  listened.  At  one 
moment,  he  shook  his  head  many  times,  and 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          273 

stamped  upon  the  little  beach ;  at  another,  he 
took  up  a  handful  of  sand,  and,  while  he  was 
saying  something  with  much  emphasis,  scat 
tered  it  in  the  air;  and  again  he  tossed  up  a 
stone  to  sink  in  the  water.  Out  of  all  these 
doings  a  fanciful  person  might  perhaps  make 
a  story.  We  leave  to  the  reader,  if  he  have  a 
fancy  for  such  things,  to  fit  them  together 
into  shape. 

"Poor  old  Hagadorn  mustn't  stay  there," 
Satterlee  said  suddenly,  "  to  be  made  game 
and  shame  of,  and  lose  his  place !  "  And  he  set 
off,  as  if  to  draw  him  away. 

The  constable,  at  the  same  time,  gathered 
about  him  as  much  of  his  dignity  as  he  could, 
and  set  out  for  himself.  The  two  did  not  come 
together ;  and,  after  following  them  with  his 
eyes,  the  ferryman  called  out,  just  loud  enough 
for  his  late  companion, — 

"  Mind,  now,  it  will  all  come  out  right.  You 
go  straight  on,  and  believe  what  I  tell  you ! " 

Constable  Wessell  Hagadorn,  with  hat  strong 
ly  set  on  head,  and  eyes  strongly  set  in  face, 
was  trying  to  walk  so  very  straight  and  narrow 
12* 


274          MASTER  VOBHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

a  path  up  from  the  river  that  he  was  ever  and 
anon  going  out  to  one  side  or  the  other. 

William  Satterlee  walked  up  Fort  Street, 
if  not  with  the  tread  of  a  conqueror,  at  least 
with  a  good,  sturdy  step.  It  may  have  been 
that  his  foot  was  planted  more  firmly,  and  that 
he  held  himself  more  upright,  as  he  went  by 
the  schoolmaster's  house ;  and  it  is  pretty  sure 
that  a  head,  wearing  spectacles  on  its  sober 
front,  which  had  thrust  itself  out  from  that 
house,  and  had  turned  its  calm  face  toward  the 
river,  was  drawn  back  —  head,  face,  spectacles, 
and  all  —  a  great  deal  more  suddenly  than  it 
had  put  itself  forth.  The  air  of  the  neighbor 
hood  was  tuneful  with  the  notes  which  the 
sometime  sailor  was  whistling  of  "  God  save 
the  King,"  —  a  melody  which  had  grown  sud 
denly  popular,  and  which  was  blown  and  beaten 
by  the  fifer  and  drummer  of  York  Fort,  morn 
ing,  noon,  and  night.  The  constable,  as  he 
went  on  before,  tried  to  march  to  it,  but  be 
thought  himself,  and  took  to  his  former  gait. 

The  house  in  which  the  late  Tunis  Sickels  had 
left  his  daughter  and  young  son  was  the  com- 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.  275 

for  table-loo  king  yellow  building  at  the  corner 
of  Fort  and  Vandewater  Streets,  once  called  re 
spectively  "  Schans-Reede  "  and  "Melk-Steeg," 
or  Sconce  Road  and  Milk  Lane,  to  which,  near 
the  beginning  of  this  story,  we  described  the 
schoolmaster,  Vorhagen,  and  Dominie  Van 
Schaats,  as  turning  their  eyes,  at  a  certain 
point  of  their  conversation.  It  was  said  that 
every  one  of  its  bricks  had  been  brought  all 
the  way  from  Holland ;  and  any  one  is  free 
to  believe  the  story.  Wherever  they  had  come 
from,  they  had  made  a  thoroughly  solid,  re 
spectable  house,  with  gambrel  roof  and  big, 
square  chimneys  having  railing  and  balusters  be 
tween  them  ;  with  outstanding  bands,  and  drip- 
course,  and  window-caps,  of  bricks  set  edge -wise 
and  end-wise,  and  a  kindly-looking  doorway, 
opening  in  half,  or  in  whole,  at  the  end  of  a 
walk  through  flowers  and  shrubbery. 

The  birds  and  the  sunshine  had  already,  for 
some  time,  been  making  themselves  at  home 
in  the  front  yard  of  this  Sickels  house;  and 
there  were,  just  now,  two  black  women,  younger 
and  older,  sitting  in  a  side  doorway,  laughing 


276          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

and  "chaffing"  one  another,  freely,  in  Dutch. 
Their  talk,  as  it  concerned  themselves,  and  not 
us,  we  leave  to  the  wind  that  bore  it  sportively 
away.  These  homely  things  seemed,  in  their 
way,  to  become  the  place,  as  birds  and  sun 
shine,  in  another  way.  That  which  gave  a 
real  finish  to  all,  and  crowned  the  whole,  was 
a  comely  maiden  of  something  more  than  twenty 
years,  perhaps  pale,  but  well-favored,  broad- 
browed,  and  deep-eyed,  —  in  short,  Jannetje 
Sickels,  often  called,  as  if  to  mark  a  feeling  of 
the  woful  unfitness  of  the  thing,  "  Vorhagen's 
Wife." 

Nothing  covered  her  rich  brown  hair  but  a 
snood,  after-comer  of  the  old  "  haar-netjes  "  of 
her  grandmothers.  Her  neatly  fitting  dress 
(which  was  dark  with  a  white  kerchief  about 
her  throat)  became  her  as  down  becomes  a 
bird.  If  her  lips  stood  opening,  as  it  were, 
even  when  still,  one  could  only  long  for  words 
that  would  not  break  the  charm  of  the  stillness. 
Whatever  stray  lock  of  hair  escaped,  to  do  as 
it  would,  wound  itself  about,  as  a  stream  flow 
ing  freely  winds  to  touch  at  many  points  a 
lovely  dale. 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.  277 

Janet  was  standing  this  morning  on  the  Fort 
Street  side  of  her  yard,  with  one  hand  at  arm's 
length  resting  on  the  fence,  her  face  in  deep 
thought,  and  her  eyes  looking  steadfastly  across 
the  street.  Her  other  hand,  holding  some  flow 
ers,  was  resting  on  her  round  hip.  What  the 
maiden  was  thinking  of,  we  have  no  gift  to 
tell,  seeing  that  she  did  not  open  her  lips ;  but 
the  black  people  had  their  own  thoughts,  and 
the  younger  one  was  saying  in  Dutch,  for  which 
we  give  English  such  as  the  same  class  spoke 
a  generation  or  two  later :  "  Miss  Jansje  's  jes' 
about  a-bringing  that  schoolmaster  to  de  scratch, 
you  see !  She  ain'  a-goin'  to  dangle  at  de  end 
ob  a  string,  for  dat  sort  ob  a  donkey  "  ("  dom- 
oor,"  as  she  irreverently  called  the  master). 
"  Dere  's  dat  Englis'  Willem  Satterlee,  he  's  a 
pooty  man,  and  he  'd  be  glad  to  git  our  Miss 
Janet,  —  I  knows  he  would,  —  'dout  waitin' 
years,  till  she  's  gone,  en  got  dead  and  buried." 
When  she  had  fairly  come  to  an  end,  the  elder 
gravely  turned  to  her,  and  said :  "  Dere  now, 
you  Sal,  you  may 's  well  shet  you'  brack  mout', 
—  you  had.  Where  you  git  all  dis  you  talk?" 


278  MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

"  I  hard  Pete  Sickels,  down  at  de  landin',  tell 
dat  his  cousin  (who 's  dat,  I  like  to  know  ?) 
promise  him  she  teach  dat  teacher  a  bery  short 
lesson  dis  bery  day.  Dare  now !  " 

Whether  any  thing  of  this  was  in  the  young 
mistress's  mind,  as  she  stood  there,  thoughtful, 
how  can  we  tell,  more  than  the  reader?  We 
know  that,  as  the  constable  went  by,  taken  up 
with  the  one  thought  of  walking  his  straight 
path,  her  true  eyes  looked  sorrowfully  upon 
him,  for,  in  truth,  he  looked  silly. 

Sal  left  her  seat,  and  shambled  up  to  her 
mistress's  side,  with  as  much  put-on  as  true 
awkwardness,  most  likely. 

"Please,  Miss  Jansje,"  she  said  in  Dutch,  for 
which  we  give  about  as  good  English,  "you 
goin'  to  gib  me  dat  yallah  strip,  dis  time,  got 
de  red  flowers  on?  I  been  good  wench  all 
winter,  —  bery  good  wench,  Miss  Jans."  And 
she  smiled  a  wonderfully  broad  smile. 

At  this  Janet  turned  round,  smiling  too. 

"  Why,  if  the  Doem'nie's  Tom  isn't  going  to 
be  there,  Sal,  I  don't  see  what  you  want  to 
dress  yourself  finely  for,"  she  said,  in  Dutch 
also. 


MASTER   VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          279 

The  black  girl  bridled  up,  laughing. 

"Tom  ain'  my  husbin',  Miss  Jans,"  she  said: 
"  you  say  any  woman  got  to  keep  to  her  husbin'. 
Dat  's  all  bery  good :  I  don'  make  no  boder 
'bout  dat,  Miss  Jans ;  but  how  you  'spec'  a  wo 
man  goV  for  get  married  (dat  is,"  she  added, 
remembering  that,  in  slavery,  it  took  more  than 
two  to  make  a  bargain,  "s'pos'n'  her  folks  is 
willin'),  how  she  goV  to  git  a  husbin'  ef  she 
don'  try  for  'em?" 

The  older  woman  came  up,  and,  giving  Sal  a 
shove,  said,  — 

"  Now,  Miss  Jansje  been  so  good  to  gib  you 
dat  yallah  strip,  you  go  'way,  now." 

"  You  mean,  Nance,  now  that  Sal 's  been  so 
good  as  to  ask  me  ;  for  I  haven't  heard  a  word 
about  any  giving,"  said  Janet,  laughing. 

"  Well,  now,  Miss  Jansje,"  Nance  answered, 
with  a  sly  look,  "  you  mus'  jes'  'scuse  me  now. 
I  seen  you  bery  ready  an'  kin'  for  dat  baas  to 
git  a  promus  hang  on  all  dese  years,  en  'caze  you 
tink  you'  fader  want  you  to,  now  "  — 

There  was  evidently  a  great  deal  of  indulgent 
kindness  in  Janet's  relation  to  the  old  slave- 
woman  ;  but  this  was  going  too  far. 


280          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

"  Nancy  !  "  she  said,  "  what  are  you  thinking 
of  ?  Be  still !  If  I  'm  kind,  you  needn't  be 
saucy." 

Nance's  feelings  moved  fast.  She  had  felt, 
very  likely,  the  itching  to  kick  a  man  that  she 
saw  undergoing  a  kicking  which  she  thought  he 
had  earned. 

"  Oh,  now,  Miss  Jans ! "  said  the  old  woman, 
sprawling  like  a  great  dog  on  the  grass, 
"  'twasn'  'bout  de  yallah  strip  for  Sal,  I  didn' 
care  ;  but  jes'  'bout  you'  own  se'f.  I  hard  my 
old  baas  say  (dat  's  you'  fader),  wid  his  own 
mouf  'fore  he  died,  you  shouldn'  be  tied  to  a 
stick  or  a  stone  ;  'case  you  ain'  a-goin'  to  be  young 
all  you'  life,  Miss  Jansje  dear.  (I  b'leeb  I 
habbn'  change  much  sunce  I  ben  a  woman  ;  but 
dat  ar  ain't  de  way  o'  mos\)  What  dat  my  ole 
bazin  [mistress]  say?  Het  schoonste  bloem 
Verliezt  haar  'roem.  Now,  dat  dere  Englis' 
baas,  I  kin  see  "  — 

Her  mistress's  anger  was  short-lived.  Here 
she  broke  in,  laughing :  "  Why,  Nancy,  you 
dear  old  foolish  woman  !  —  run  away,  run  away 
now,  and  show  Sal  how  to  make  that  yellow 
katoene." 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.  281 

When  Master  William'  Satterlee,  walking  up 
Fort  Street,  came  over  against  where  Janet 
stood,  he  was  aware  of  her  (if,  indeed,  he  was 
not  sooner),  and,  uncovering  himself,  greeted 
her  with  a  mellow  voice.  It  may  have  been 
that,  if  one  had  closely  conned  the  school 
master's  house,  he  might  have  seen  a  face,  or 
eyes  and  nose,  somewhere  protruding  to  watch ; 
but  we  doubt  whether  any  one  bethought  him 
self  to  look. 

It  would  not  have  been  hard  to  see  two  black 
faces  in  Janet's  own  house,  turned  from  differ 
ent  points  upon  the  scene. 

Janet,  who  plainly  had  not  seen  the  young 
man  until  startled  by  his  voice,  was  for  an  in 
stant  thrown  into  confusion,  but  answered  his 
greeting  quietly  and  courteously.  As  he,  began 
to  come  across  the  way,  she  left  her  place,  but 
—  gathering,  here  and  there,  flowers  —  drew 
near  the  gate  on  the  other  street,  and  at  that  he 
presently  showed  himself.  She  kept  on  gather 
ing  or  seeking  flowers  ;  and  why  not  as  prettily 
as  Persephone,  or  any  maiden  of  the  Enchanted 
Valley? 


282          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

She  could,  of  course,  have  gone  into  the 
house,  but  had  not  gone :  he  might,  of  course, 
have  gone  be3rond  the  gate,  but  had  stopped, 
and  here  they  were.  If  she  was  not  high-born, 
she  was  of  good  stock,  and  was  of  pure  and 
kindly  maiden  fame  ;  and  this  young  tradesman, 
though  no  king  in  disguise,  was  a  true-hearted, 
manly  fellow :  is  riot  the  dealing  of  such  hearts 
as  these  two  have  better  worth  following  than  of 
base  and  bad  and  tricky?  Let  the  reader  think 
so. 

The  case  was  not  a  case  of  simple  love-mak 
ing  between  true  lovers.  There,  to  be  sure, 
each  side  is  fearful  and  hopeful  and  wishful, 
ashamed  of  itself,  and  setting  up  the  other  side 
above  all  costliness  :  each  knows  pretty  thorough 
ly  that  the  greater  part  of  the  world  is  behind 
some  wall,  listening  to  every  thing  and  peeping 
at  every  thing,  and  almost  sure  at  some  unlucky 
time  to  snatch  the  other  dear,  dear,  dear  (thrice 
dear)  side  back,  beyond  reach  or  recall ;  but, 
then,  there  is  all  the  priceless  uncertainty, 
wherein  hoping,  wishing,  fearing,  blow  like 
winds  from  several  points  of  compass  (we  hardly 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          283 

care  which  blows,  so  one  be  blowing)  in  a  sea 
in  which  lie  all  rich  islands  of  the  sun.  Here, 
the  maiden  was  thought  by  everybody  to  be  in 
some  sort  bound,  though  everybody  believed  that 
she  had  a  full  right  to  be  free,  and  every  one 
wished  well  to  the  young  Englishman's  courting  ; 
and  the  maiden  herself,  being  good  and  true, 
and  seeming  somehow  bound,  even  if  not  truly 
bound,  to  a  lumpish,  hulky,  slow-blooded  wise 
acre  who  had  had  a  claim  upon  her,  which  ought 
now  to  be  worthless,  must,  before  she  will  feel 
herself  free,  have  an  understanding  with  him, 
and  drop  him  so  that  he  will  know  that  he  is 
dropped. 

Wondrously  bashful  was  the  young  seaman- 
cabinet-maker  (shrine-making,  the  Dutch  call 
his  craft),  wondrously  bashful  in  Janet  Sickels's 
presence ;  and  she,  too,  was  not  at  her  ease. 
To  the  true  lover,  as  we  all  know,  there  is  but 
one  other  in  the  world  at  such  a  time. 

If  Master  William  Satterlee  was  not  better- 
looking  than  are  many  of  his  class,  he  was  at 
least  a  very  good  specimen  of  it :  of  good  size  and 
shape,  strong  and  supple,  with  a  lithe  body,  a  deft 


284 


hand,  and  a  bright,  ready  wit  in  following  out 
hints  left  by  skilful  workers  in  his  craft :  with 
an  intelligent,  manly  face,  and  a  pleasant,  manly 
voice :  but,  withal,  this  time  and  on  his  errand, 
now  (in  spite  of  any  thing  that  her  cousin,  the 
ferry-master,  might  have  told  him)  he  seemed 
likely  not  to  be  well  sped.  We  think  we  know 
what  was  in  his  heart,  which,  for  the  time,  took 
up  the  whole  of  him :  his  whole  heart  craved 
one  short  chance  to  be  near  this  Janet  Sickels 
(who  did  not  belong  to  any  other,  and  who  had 
a  right  to  a  good,  manly,  true-hearted  lover, 
that  could  think  of  her  and  not  of  himself)  ;  a 
chance  to  see  and  hear  her ;  yes,  and  (just  as 
he  was)  to  be  heard  and  seen  by  her,  and  to  let 
her  think  what  she  might  of  him. 

To  this,  one  of  his  ways  was  to  ask  her  to  go 
out  with  him  and  her  brother  Derrick  in  the  new 
wherry.  Now  everybody  almost  had  seen  this 
new  wherry,  and  thought  it  a  wonder  of  skill ; 
Janet  herself,  too,  as  she  told  him,  had  heard 
from  Derrick  that  it  was  a  beautiful  boat,  and 
yet  it  happened  to  be  so  that  she  could  not  very 
well  go  in  it  now ;  some  other  time,  perhaps, 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          285 

she  might.  This,  therefore,  was  settled  against 
him.  There  are,  at  least,  two  points  in  a  man's 
conscious  life,  at  which  he  sees  that  Now  is 
Eternity,  reaching  through  all  Past  and  all 
To-come  ;  and  those  points  are  when  there  is 
present  to  the  eye  or  to  the  ear  the  One  whom 
he  feels  to  be  the  only  being  in  the  world,  and 
when  there  is  present  to  the  spirit  (if  we  may 
say  it  here,  in  our  little  story,  without  harm) 
the  One  who  Was  and  Is  and  Is-to-come,  the 
Only  Being.  Our  friend,  William  Satterlee, 
was  struggling  in  the  waves  of  one  of  these 
times.  He  tried  for  another  very  little  thing,  — 
to  walk  with  her  to  farmer  Wygandt's,  but  she 
had  already  promised  to  go  with  another,  —  un 
doubtedly  that  great  stupid  lump  (as  Satterlee 
might  think  him)  who  claimed  to  hold  her  hand, 
and  might  hope  to  die  holding  it. 

Now,  moved  by  some  strongly  stirring  will 
within  him,  he  called  to  his  help  the  huge  and 
mighty  world  outside  of  the  one  other  being, 
and  made  as  if  he  would  leap  into  the  midst  of 
it  and  be  gone.  He  asked  whether,  before  he 
went  back  to  the  sea,  he  might  hope  to  take 


286  MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

her  and  Derrick  one  row,  some  time,  in  the 
wherry. 

This  touch  —  of  the  great,  unknown,  dread 
ful,  devouring  sea  —  did  change  things  for  him. 
Janet  was  inland  born  and  bred.  She  partly 
knew  what  sort  of  thing  water  was,  from  their 
own  fair  and  smoothly  gliding  stream:  which, 
when  it  was  breaking  up  its  ice,  would  go  mad, 
arid  heave  the  huge  cakes  and  lumps  all  over 
the  neighboring  fields  ;  which  had  carried  away 
John  Wassell's  water-mill  and  Peter  Huisberg's 
wind-mill,  and,  in  soft  summer,  had  drawn  the 
pretty  Gerritt  Tenbroeck  to  his  death.  Now, 
when  it  came  to  the  sea,  —  the  sea  that  was 
bigger  than  all  the  land,  and  was,  the  whole 
time,  full  of  huge  strength  — 

Then,  too,  she  knew  that  all  the  wonderful, 
great  towns,  with  all  the  best  beauty  and 
wealth  and  wisdom  of  the  world,  were  built 
along  the  edge  of  the  sea :  to  go  back  to  the 
sea,  was  it  not  wilfully  or  unwillingly  to  be  lost 
to  the  land  ? 

She  told  him  she  thought  the  sea  must  be  very 
wonderful,  but  it  must  be  very  dreadful,  —  to 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.  287 

climb  up  great  mountains  of  water,  and  go 
down  great  deep  dells,  all  made  of  water,  with 
rocks  in  them  and  great  fishes  bigger  than  ships  ; 
and  then  that  great  sickness  of  the  sea,  that 
lay  in  the  way  of  all  ship-farers  !  She  could  not 
see  how  a  mother,  even  if  she  had  more  than 
one  child  (Mistress  Satterlee,  as  it  happened,  had 
three  children),  could  let  a  son  go  to  the  sea  !  But 
she  supposed  men  would  choose  for  themselves. 
She  never  knew  any  sea-faring  man  but  that 
ship-master  Bogardus  (that  brought  those 
strange  rain-screens  and  sun-screens  to  the 
Dominie  and  his  wife,  from  some  outlandish 
place)  ;  she  heard  him  say  that  he  had  been  to 
sea  all  his  life,  and  was  sick  of  it. 

Now  was  Master  Will  Satterlee's  chance  !  (at 
least  it  seemed  so)  and  so  he  said  that  some  men 
had  no  choice  left  them.  If  they  had  no  hope 
on  land,  why  should  they  stay  there  ? 

Now  Satterlee  (in  sea-speech)  got  the  wind 
abaft ;  now  (in  sea-speech)  he  set  every  thing 
that  would  draw  ;  now  (in  our  landward  words) 
he  got  his  tongue  unloosed.  How  he  swept  over 
the  face  of  the  deep  !  But  how  little  he  made 


288          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

of  whatever  he  had  done  and  heard  and  seen ! 
He  talked  and  talked ;  and  she  listened  and 
asked,  until  —  until,  perhaps,  she  bethought 
herself  that  she  could  not  listen  for  ever. 

At  the  end,  she  said,  "  I  don't  think  you  like 
that  great  sea  much,  Master  Satteiiee :  "  to  which 
he  answered,  "  Indeed,  I  'd  never  go  again,  if  I 
had  encouragement  to  stay  ashore."  —  "I  hope 
not,"  she  said  ;  but  that  was  all  that  she  said. 

Somehow,  he  got  a  promise  that,  if  she  should, 
by  any  chance,  have  no  escort  (but  Miss  Janet 
said  that  there  was  not  the  least  chance),  then 
William  Satterlee  should  have  the  boon  that  he 
longed  for.  Here  Miss  Jannetje  called  her  brother 
Derrick ;  and,  finding  no  answer,  called  again 
and  again  with  a  soft,  maidenly  voice,  which 
ought  to  have  brought  anybody,  "  Derrick  !  " 

This,  William  Satterlee  modestly  took  for  a 
hint  that  she  had  given  him  as  much  as  she 
thought  fitting  of  her  time  ;  so,  having  taken  off 
his  hat,  he  was  waiting  only  long  enough  to  tell 
her  a  trifling  piece  of  news.  He  had  seen  Der 
rick  very  early  with  another  youngster,  carrying 
wooden  bars  across  their  shoulders.  She  had 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          289 

begun  telling  him  in  turn  that  Derrick  had  had 
a  pile  of  those  bars,  which  he  said  some  non 
sense  about,  —  that  "  they  were  for  the  town,"  — 
when  both  became  aware  of  a  little  procession 
on  the  foot-path,  through  the  grass  by  the  fence, 
in  Vande water  Street  (or  Melk-Steeg).  The 
same  two  boys  whom  we  met  near  the  school 
master's,  and  to  one  of  whom,  by  the  name 
Derrick,  the  worthy  pastor  had  given  the 
fatherly  rede  and  warning  to  "  be  always  a  good 
boy,"  —  these,  together  with  other  boys,  were 
gravely  (except  for  some  whispering  and  nudg 
ing)  attending  the  onderwijzer,  or  schoolmaster. 

With  the  grieved  look  of  one  who  is  hurt  in 
his  feeling  of  right,  he  saw  the  Englishman 
and  Janet,  and  strode  loftily  on. 

"  I  hope  to  meet  you  by-and-by,  as  you  bade 
me,  Mister  Schoolmaster,"  Janet  said  kindly. 

"  'M  !  "  said  the  man  of  authority  from  among 
his  boys  dutifully  attending  him.  William 
Satterlee  smiled  ;  and  her  eyes  instantly  turned 
to  him. 

Now,  Janet  in  her  turn  looked  hurt,  as  she 

saw   the    merriment    about    the    Englishman's 
13 


290          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

mouth  and  eyes.  In  a  moment,  when  she 
turned  away  to  the  house,  with  a  red  flush  over 
her  whole  face,  there  was  certainly  a  smile 
playing  about  her  own  lips. 

At  the  landing,  there  was  a  busy  time  that 
morning.  All  the  many  floating  things  about 
which  we  saw  the  dusky  and  black  owners  chat 
tering  had  been  made  or  brought  for  use  in  going 
over  to  the  other  side.  There  was  enough  of 
bustle  and  merriment,  we  may  believe.  And 
how  many  the  young  blacks  seemed,  such  a 
faculty  they  had  of  being  in  more  than  one 
place  at  once !  The  dresses  that  flitted  about 
by  the  water-side  were  as  bright  and  manifold 
(though  somewhat  cheap  and  flimsy),  and  were 
as  fragrant,  too,  as  if  a  field  of  wild  flowers  had 
been  gifted  with  the  power  of  walking,  and 
were  moving  up  and  down  and  in  and  out  there. 
Among  these,  Sal's  "  yellow  strip  "  was  as  sunny 
as  a  patch  of  dandelion-blossoms  or  butter 
cups.  The  Dominie's  Tom  was  much  missed ; 
but  dandies  and  bucks  and  wits  were  not  want 
ing,  and  Sal  had  her  share. 

Some  white  people  were  looking  on,  and  some- 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          291 

times  laughing  heartily  when  the  fun  ran  high  ; 
as  when  a  natty  young  fellow,  lord  of  a  square- 
ended,  queer-looking  craft,  had  to  settle  the 
rival  claims  of  two  damsels,  equally  (and  ag 
gressively)  willing  to  go  in  it ;  or  when  another, 
less  happy  because  he  had  nothing  better  than  a 
rickety  flooring  of  boards  on  ill-assorted  logs, 
trying  to  show  its  steadiness  to  the  bouncing 
and  saucy  beauties  who  were  flaunting  on  the 
bank,  was  tipped  from  the  edge  of  his  unsafe 
footing  into  the  river. 

Now  and  then,  there  was  a  cry  that  the 
Dominie  was  going  to  be  there,  instead  of  Tom  ; 
and  there  would  be  no  liquor  over  at  Pinkster 
Hollow. 

The  ferry-boat  carried  all  the  elder  and  more 
sedate. 

The  whites,  for  the  most  part,  came  later,  when 
the  merrier  blacks  had  by  one  sort  of  carriage  or 
other  left  the  place  empty.  William  Satterlee  had 
seated  himself,  and  was  looking  on,  —  waiting, 
perhaps,  like  the  countryman  by  Horace's  river, 
for  that  chance  which,  as  he  had  been  assured, 
could  not  come.  He  kept  himself  to  him- 


292          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

self  very  much,  and  let  men  and  women  (who, 
as  they  came  to  the  landing,  did  not  pass  him 
by  unseen)  to  go  their  own  ways.  He  sat 
alone,  waiting. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  schoolmaster 
had  made  an  appointment  to  meet  Janet  Sickels 
at  the  ferry  ;  and,  while  the  sun  shone  over 
head  and  the  birds  sang,  flitting  from  spray  to 
fence,  and  from  fence  to  spray,  Miss  Janet  came 
walking  maidenly  down.  Slowly  she  went,  on 
her  own  side  of  the  road,  in  front  of  the  school 
master's  house.  There  was  no  stir  to  be  seen 
anywhere  about  that  old-fashioned  dwelling, 
whereon  the  lower  shutters  were  closed,  and 
at  one  of  whose  upper  windows,  which  stood 
open,  might  be  seen  the  schoolmaster's  mother, 
dozing,  with  her  chin  upon  her  breast. 

Miss  Janet  walked  slowly  and  more  slowly, 
and,  looking  across  the  street,  saw  of  course  this 
very  unlively  state  of  things.  At  the  landing 
was  William  Satteiiee,  not  looking  up.  Where 
was  the  schoolmaster,  who  had  earlier  in  the 
day  passed  along  in  his  proud  walk  by  her  gate, 
in  the  midst  of  his  duteous  boys,  and  whom  she 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          293 

had  reminded  of  her  promise  to  meet  him  at  the 
ferry?  She  loitered.  She  could  not  take  up 
time  with  laying  her  parasol  against  her  knee  to 
set  its  sticks  right ;  for,  leaving  out  that  one 
brought  from  abroad  by  the  shipmaster  Bogardus, 
as  a  gift  to  Madam  Van  Schaats,  such  a  thing  had 
never  been  seen  or  heard  of.  To  bend  down 
and  take  up  time  with  untying  and  tying  over 
again  the  latchets  of  the  shoes  on  her  pretty 
feet  was  a  thing  that  she  could  do ;  but  it  was 
too  soon  done.  She  rose  again,  with  a  flush  in 
her  cheek  and  a  look  of  trouble,  which  certainly 
did  not  make  her  look  less  handsome  or  less 
lovely,  but  which  did  not  help  her  to  find  the 
missing  man. 

There  was  Satterlee,  just  in  her  way  to  the 
ferry  ;  but  where,  once  more,  was  Schoolmaster 
Vorhagen,  with  whom,  perhaps,  she  had  some 
dealing  to  do  that  would  touch  more  than  one 
heart  full  of  such  blood  as  it  had,  thicker  or  thin 
ner,  stronger  or  weaker,  warmer  or  colder  ?  She 
turned  and  looked  back.  Happily,  among  the 
few  voices  to  be  heard  and  bodies  to  be  seen  on 
the  thoroughfare  were  those  of  the  Dominie  and 


294          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

Madam  Van  Schaats.  Whether  the  Dominie 
saw  her  difficulty  or  not,  he  at  once  took  her 
under  his  charge  ;  and,  at  the  next  moment, 
almost,  two  family  wagons  passing  had  room 
eagerly  made  in  them  for  his  whole  party. 
From  her  seat  (with  some  of  the  flush  in  her 
cheek)  she  bowed  to  William  Satterlee,  who 
happened  to  look  up  as  the  wagons  drove  by, 
carrying  his  chance  with  them. 

Behind  came  Justice  Beekman,  on  his  gray, 
bowing  graciously  to  both  sides  of  him.  Then 
Satterlee  took  his  own  wherry,  and  rowed  down 
the  river. 

Farmers'  times  and  some  of  their  ways  have 
changed  little  since  the  days  of  Noah.  Joseph 
Wygandt's  dinner  was  set  for  (not  a  wink  later 
than)  the  nick  of  time  at  which  the  sun,  having 
got  to  the  top  of  the  sky,  should  be  looking 
straight  down  upon  the  new  flooring  of  rough 
boards,  laid  on  the  beams  in  his  new  barn.  Be 
fore  then  (beginning  as  early  as  they  could),  the 
neighbors  were  to  have  their  sports,  which  were 
to  have  so  good  an  influence  on  the  doings  of  the 
blacks  at  Pinkster-Hollow,  not  far  away.  So 


MASTER  VOBHAGEN'S  WIFE.  295 

i 

farmer  Wygandt,  good  man,  began  to  call  with 
his  great,  lusty  voice  for  the  men  to  pitch  the  bar, 
and  at  the  same  time  for  his  wife's  cousin,  Vorha- 
gen,  the  schoolmaster,  who  for  his  learning  was 
just  the  man  to  keep  tally  and  record  of  the 
games  ;  "  for  the  games,"  as  he  said  in  Dutch, 
"  must  be  done  up  in  good  shape." 

As  he  spoke,  a  jargon  and  jangle  and  hubbub 
and  uproar  of  sounds  came  over  from  the  Hol 
low  ;  in  which  medley,  shouts,  laughs,  yells, 
cries,  were  all  in  the  air  at  once,  as  all  sorts  of 
unmixing  things  are  thrown  aloft  together  by  a 
blow-up  of  gas  or  gunpowder. 

The  solid,  kindly  Dominie  comforted  himself, 
saying  to  his  wife,  "  How  glad  I  am  that  Tom  's 
away !  he  was  always  the  leader.  —  He  shall 
have  some  fun." 

The  schoolmaster,  whom  we  saw  walking 
stately  by  Janet's  gate,  and  who  was  awaited 
near  the  ferry,  did  not  come  to  the  lusty  call  of 
his  wife's  cousin  (who  was  said  to  have  lent  him 
money  more  than  once,  and  once  too  often). 
The  farmer  was  a  man  to  do  things  handsomely, 
in  his  way. 


296         MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

"If  we  can't  have  the  schoolmaster,  who 
fitter  than  *  The  Master's  Wife  '  ? "  and  he 
turned  and  bowed  to  the  fair  Janet,  while  a  mur 
mur  of  kindly  applause  showed  that  the  general 
feeling  was  that  their  host  had  done  the  right 
thing  handsomely. 

"  I  know  no  harm  is  meant ;  but  I  have  no 
claim  to  be  called  by  any  one's  name  but  my 
own,"  Janet  Sickels  said,  a  little  abashed,  but 
with  dignity.  "  If  I  can  give  any  help,  I  will, 
and  welcome." 

"  Right,  Miss  Jannetje ! "  said  the  burly 
farmer.  "  Vorhagen  is  my  wife's  cousin  ;  but  I 
wond  "  — 

"  My  cousin,  Miss  Janet  Sickels,  for  herself!  " 
said  the  ferryman,  "  to  give  the  prizes,  and 
all  the  rest  of  it ;  and "  (turning  round,  and 
stamping  strongly)  "  may  this  be  the  last  of  .this 
molewarp-noodle  "  (one  word  would  not  do  for 
him)  "  Vorhagen's  claim  !  " 

A  man  was  standing  outside  a  little  way,  who 
seemed  to  be  giving  no  heed  to  what  went  on. 
When  the  carpenter  proved  too  tipsy  to  saw  a 
piece  of  board  for  a  tablet  for  the  fair  writer, 


MASTER  VOKHAGEN'S  WIFE.          297 

this  man  shoved  him  quietly  aside,  and,  taking 
saw  first  and  chisej  next,  shaped  out  very 
quickly  a  pretty  bit  of  smooth,  thin  deal,  that 
a  lady  might  be  willing  to  carry  for  a  note-book. 
This  he  brought  and  presented,  hat  in  hand,  to 
the  maiden. 

"  Well  done  for  Master  Willem  Satterlee !  " 
shouted  the  ferry-master  again,  and  then,  in  a 
low  voice  which  reached  everybody  near,  "  and 
may  he  give  a  good  grip  to  the  line  that  loose 
hand  has  dropped ! "  And  at  this  the  honest, 
burly  cousin's  husband  laughed ;  and,  slapping 
his  neighbor  (pretty  heavily)  on  the  back,  said, 
"  Het  zij  zoo  !  So  be  it,  Peter  !  Good  ! " 

"  Give  a  crack  or  two  like  that  to  that  school 
master  of  yours,"  said  Sickels,  "  (that 's  where 
they  belong)  and  you  '11  finish  him.  Here  ! 
what 's  that  fellow  talking  about  the  school 
master,  there  ?  Now  that  we  've  done  with  him, 
we  might  as  well  know  what 's  become  of  him." 

There  was  a  crowd  of  whites  and  blacks  (little, 

open-mouthed,  shiny-eyed  blacks  among  them) 

almost  splitting  their  sides  with  laughter.     Peal 

after  peal  of  merriment  broke  out,  at  some  new 

13* 


298         MASTER  VOKHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

bit  of  drollery  or  wit  of  the  man  about  whom 
they  had  gathered ;  for  it  would  seem  that  at 
least  some  of  the  sun-swartbed  people  from  the 
Hollow  had  come  over,  of  themselves,  to  the 
healthy  influence  of  the  sports  of  the  whites. 

The  man  was  in  a  nonsensical,  trumped-up 
dress,  was  bent  over  nearly  double,  and  had  hair 
whiter  than  snow  (though  kinky  as  a  Vermont 
Spanish  ram's  wool),  and  a  face  paler  than  any 
albino's  ever  was.  On  his  nose  was  a  pair  of 
huge  spectacles  of  paper  or  pasteboard.  He  had 
set  up  two  little  black  boys  in  front  of  him,  who 
could  hardly  stand,  for  laughing. 

"  Dey  ben  callin'  fo'  schoolmaster :  I  'specs 
toder  one  busy  in  his  school-house,  so  I  sail  hab 
to  do  de  teachin'  ober  here,"  he  said. 

The  farmer's  guests  had  their  time  on  their 
hands,  being  out  for  a  holiday,  and  flocked  grin 
ning  about  him,  while  things  were  made  ready 
for  the  sports.  They  politely  made  way  for 
Janet  Sickels  and  the  rest  of  the  ladies  to  have 
the  best  of  the  sight,  and  then  questioned  "  whose 
that  nigger  was."  The  fellow  himself  was  rol 
licking  thoroughly  in  the  saucy  freedom  of  the 
day. 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          299 

"Wha's  de  fus'  prins'pl'  nature,  you  small 
black  lump  ?  "  he  asked  of  one  of  his  scholars ; 
"  setting  him  up  "  at  the  same  time  with  a  cuff 
on  the  cheek,  as  one  of  the  farmers'  wives  might 
set  up  a  pat  of  butter  with  a  slap  of  the  ladle. 

"  Schoolmaster,  baas  !  "  the  little  imp  blurted 
out. 

"  Schoolmaster  bery  big,  en  schoolmaster  bery 
good, "  said  the  teacher,  solemnly ;  "  but  he 
am'  dis  ting :  de  fus  prins'pl'  nature  's  eatin\ 
You  right  in  you'  prins'pls :  you  wrong  in  you' 
'elusions,  or  sent'munts.  'Case  you  'spec  de 
master,  you  sha'n'  go  down." 

In  spite  of  uncouth  dress  and  kinky  hair  and 
ghastly  face,  —  and  all  the  more  droll  because 
of  these,  —  the  likeness  to  Master  Jacob  Vor- 
hagen  (though  not  a  word  was  said  of  him)  was 
laughably  strong.  No  one  could  help  seeing  it, 
and  everybody  seemed  to  find  the  fun  good.  It 
would  not  do  to  let  the  blacks  go  too  far  ;  but  a 
great  deal  of  freedom  was  given  and  taken  at 
Pinkster. 

One  man,  there,  had  a  nicer  feeling. 

"The   schoolmaster  may  be  what  he  will," 


300          MASTER  VOKHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

Satterlee  said  in  English  to  a  neighbor  ;  "  but,  if 
Miss  Janet  Sickels  has  let  him  pay  attentions  to 
her,  it 's  an  insult  to  her  to  make  fun  of  him. 
You  see  she  's  going  away." 

"  You  're  right,"  said  the  ferry-master,  Sickels ; 
"  but  I  think  I  know  this  fellow.  He  's  running 
the  risk  of  the  whipping-post,  now.  I  shouldn't 
want  to  see  him  get  into  much  trouble  :  he  isn't 
a  bad  nigger,  and  the  schoolmaster  's  an  ass  !  " 

Dominie  Van  Schaats  was  coming  along,  with 
his  face  like  the  sun,  and  no  more  spying  out  of 
the  way  and  into  nooks  than  the  sun  looks  round 
corners.  Justice  Beekman  had  been  standing 
among  the  laughers,  but  had  just  been  saying, 
"  Yes,  —  well,  now  !  "  as  if  he  thought  the  thing 
had  gone  far  enough.  Justice  Beekman  had 
about  him  that  good  thing  to  have,  his  presence 
of  mind.  He  saw  the  Dominie,  and  opened  a 
way  for  him  through  the  ring. 

"  Dere  's  a  bery  'spectable  gen'man  comin'  I  " 
said  the  sham  teacher,  seeing  the  Dominie 
through  the  opening:  "I  don' wan'  to  stan' in 
his  way !  " 

"  You,  Tom  !  "  said  the  "  respectable  gentle- 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          801 

man,"  "  here,  sirrah  !  I  shall  have  something 
to  say  to  you.  What  have  you  done  with  the 
horse  ?  " 

"  We  can  clap  him  straight  in  the  lockup," 
said  the  justice. 

"  Looks  like  dat  boy  want  a  good  clustin'," 
said  a  wench  wearing  a  yellow  strip  with  red 
roses  on  it. 

If  to  a  crow  caught  by  the  foot,  its  black 
fellows  gather  from  we-can't-see-where,  in  an 
instant,  thicker  than  whortleberries  in  a  pud 
ding,  with  like  speed  the  blacks  gathered  to 
Tom,  almost  before  the  assurance  that  "  the 
horse  was  happy,  eating  his  belly  full  of  oats," 
was  well  out  from  between  the  whitened  -black 
man's  lips. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,  you  bad  boy  ?  " 
asked  Tom's  master,  who  had  taken  such  pains 
to  have  him  away. 

"  We  fotch  him,  Baas  Dom'riie  ! "  cried  an 
eager  chorus  of  blacks :  "  we  cotch  him  runnin' 
away  wid  dat  horse  ;  know'd  you  'd  never  sen' 
him,  in  dis  worl',  wid  dat  hoss,  away  off,  Pink 
ster,  Baas  Doem'nie.  We  lef  de  hoss  eatin'  mo' 


302  MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

oats  den  lie  can  swallah,  Doem'nie.  An'  we 
fotch  dis  boy,  an'  sot  him  right  dere,  Baas 
Doem'nie,  tell  we  could  git  troo  dis  Pinkster  "  — 

Tom's  own  story  was  entirely  consistent  with 
theirs. 

"  An'  didn'  I  tell  you,  dat  time,  my  baas  sen' 
me  wid  dat  hoss,  "  Tom  asked,  "  an'  you  wouldn' 
b'lieb'  ?  Now,  you  jes'  ahks  him,  —  dat 's  all !  " 

"  Ef  dat 's  so,  den  we  don'  bery  wrong,  boys, 
—  bery  wrong !  "  said  several  blacks,  solemnly, 
every  one  shaking  his  head,  while  some  of  the 
whites  laughed  ;  the  speakers  looking  more  and 
more  solemn,  and  shaking  their  heads  more 
foolishly,  the  more  the  others  laughed.  "  Don' 
signify,  but  dat  hoss  mus'  be  brought  to  dis  boy 
'gin,  same  's  he  was." 

"  I  '11  find  my  horse,"  said  the  Dominie, 
quietly.  u  Come,  sirrah,  and  get  off  that  flour  !  " 

"  Dere,  now,  Baas  Doem'nie,  dese  'ere  niggers 
meant  good  a-stoppin'  me,"  said  Tom,  who  had 
most  likely  as  much  reason  as  any  one  to  know 
what  they  meant,  "  on'y  dey  's  foolish." 

"  Bigger  fools  than  ever  you  were,  my  boy,  if 
they  thought  that  story  would  go  down,"  said 
Mr.  Sickels,  in  a  low  voice,  and  laughing. 


MASTER  VOKHAGEN'S  WIFE.  303 

Black  Tom  had  not  emptied  his  cartridge-box. 

"  Well,  now,  baas,  ef  you  doubt  my  word, 
you  can  jes'  sen'  ober  toder  side,  an'  see  ef  de 
schoolmas'r  isn'  keepin'  school.  Anyways,  I 
hard  so." 

"  If  he  's  comfortable,  we  are,"  said  Sickels ; 
"  and  truly,  as  you  say,  the  boys  are  not  here  !  " 

The  sports  went  on,  and  the  people  gathered 
to  them. 

The  reader  must,  in  his  mind,  see  Miss  Janet 
Sickels  in  a  carved  old-country  chair,  mounted 
on  a  table  covered  with  green  boughs.  If  she 
climbed  to  this  unwilling,  she  nevertheless 
looked  handsome  as  she  sat  there. 

If  the  reader  thinks  that  now  she  had  noth 
ing  to  do  but  to  make  eyes  at  William  Satterlee, 
he  mistakes.  She  had  not  yet  had  that  fatal  walk 
with  the  cold,  slow-blooded  man,  who  doubt 
less  still  thought  that  she  belonged  to  him,  and 
no  one  who  knew  Janet  would  fear  for  any  play 
ing  double  by  her.  Moreover,  Satterlee  is  too 
busy  to  be  watching  her  glances :  the  truth  is 
that  he  is  winning  new  renown.  Our  friends, 
the  farmers,  slowly  and  wisely  took  their  stand  ; 


304  MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

slowly  and  strongly  swung  the  iron  bar,  and 
hurled  it  heavily  ;  and,  after  them,  the  sometime 
sailor  hurled  beyond  any  of  them. 

True  it  is,  also,  that  Miss  Janet  must  call  out 
his  name,  and  must  give  him  the  red  ribbon. 
Then,  for  a  standing  leap,  and  for  leaping  with 
a  run,  when  it  got  to  the  second,  there  was  but 
one  to  try  it  with  him,  so  far  had  he  outdone 
every  one  in  the  first.  Here  was  his  name  to 
be  called  twice  again,  and  two  green  ribbons  to 
be  given  to  him  by  Janet  Sickels,  one  after  the 
other. 

It  was,  perhaps,  a  little  awkward  for  both 
sides  ;  but  it  was  done.  Now  for  the  horseback 
races !  and  here  the  farmers  might  well  hope  to 
have  all  to  themselves.  To  everybody's  joy, 
Dominie  Van  Schaats  was  on  the  field  again, 
riding  his  own  good  horse,' with  Tom  (very  still) 
waiting  upon  him. 

One  piebald,  two  sorrels,  a  chestnut,  and  a 
bay  were  brought  up.  The  two  sorrels  and  the 
piebald,  for  one  or  other  reason,  fell  out,  and 
left  the.  chestnut  and  the  bay.  The  two  were  to 
run  a  straight  race  along  the  road,  and  across 
the  ferry-track,  —  "  a  measured  mile." 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          305 

"  If  the  Dominie  and  the  squire  would  be  so 
good  as  just  to  stand  '  sidesmen,'  "  said  the 
ferry-master,  who  had  had  a  word  or  two  with 
the  very  still  Tom. 

Very  handsomely,  the  Dominie  accepted. 
"  He  could  not  race  himself ;  but  he  was  will 
ing  to  forward  an  honest  run  between  his  neigh 
bors."  The  justice  spoke  as  handsomely. 

As  soon  as  if  it  had  been  standing  ready,  the 
justice's  gray  was  brought,  and  his  master  was 
on  his  back.  Then  the  two  dignitaries  were  set 
at  each  side  of  the  road,  and  there  they  sat,  as 
solemn  and  still,  at  each  side  of  the  way,  as  Mr. 
Layard's  lions  at  Nineveh.  They  were  not  to 
stir  ;  and  there  was  Tom  holding  the  Dominie *s 
steed  by  the  head,  and  Mr.  Sickels,  Justice 
Beekman's.  Now,  between  them  the  two  racers 
were  dressed,  neck  and  neck.  The  two  held 
horses  were  restless  ;  and  Tom  modestly  advised 
the  dignified  riders  to  hold  an  easy  rein,  but  to 
keep  a  steady  seat. 

At  the  word  "AfP'Tom  loosed  his  hold; 
Mr.  Sickels  did  the  same  ;  but  instead  of  the 
side  horses  standing  still,  away  they  went,  bear- 


306          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

ing  the  Dominie  and  the  justice,  as  fast  as  any. 
It  looked  as  if  the  dignified  "  sidesmen  "  meant 
to  see  the  thing  through. 

"  Ki !  "  shouted  Tom,  clapping  his  hands. 
"  See  dat !  —  Ki !  Ki !  "  And  he  followed  along 
the  road,  as  did  almost  everybody,  as  fast  as 
they  could  go,  to  see  what  was  to  happen.  It 
was  a  wondrous  sight  to  see  the  pastor  and  the 
justice  going  off  in  cocked  hat  and  wig  and 
broadcloth  !  Away  the  four  horses  flew  !  The 
solid  ground  thundered  under  them.  Dirt 
and  gravel,  water  and  mud,  were  scattered  and 
splattered.  With  elbows  flapping,  and  bodies 
swaying,  and  one  hat  after  another  going  off, 
the  farmers  rode  amain.  Off  went  the  justice's 
cocked  hat !  the  justice's  wig !  the  pastor's 
cocked  hat !  Coats  fluttered  as  if  they  were 
trying  to  get  off.  On  went  the  riders,  staying 
no  more  than  the  dashing  steamer  or  the  rush 
ing  engine  for  its  sparks  or  cinders. 

Breathless,  the  crowd  tugged  after  them  along 
the  road  ;  and  footmen  raced  with  footmen. 

"Twopence  for  Justice  Beekman !"  shouted 
Sickels.  "  Go  it,  Squire  !  " 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          307 

Good  people  picked  up  the  scattered  bits  of 
the  outward  men,  and  hurried  after  the  owners. 

"  Doem'nie  !  Doem'nie  !  Doem'nie,  foreber !  " 
shouted  Tom,  who  was  as  full  of  the  race  as 
the  very  horses  themselves.  A  good  many 
stopped  and  slapped  their  knees,  and  could  not 
hold  themselves  for  laughing.  Women,  mostly 
were  wondering. 

Madam  Van  Schaats,  having  taken  it  all  in, 
burst  into  most  hearty  laughter.  "  The  Dominie 
will  show  them  the  way,  and  lead  them  in  it," 
she  said. 

The  farmers  lost  ground  !  the  justice  gained  ! 
the  pastor  gained  !  "  Ki !  "  shrieked  Tom.  "  Go 
it !  Go  it !  "  shouted  the  ferryman  and  others. 

The  barn  (half  way)  was  passed.  The  Domi 
nie  and  the  justice  were  ahead :  the  chestnut  led 
the  bay.  The  Dominie  and  the  justice  were  on 
the  little  bridge  together.  "  Doem'nie  !  Doem' 
nie  !  "  shouted  Tom  :  "  see  dat  I  Ki !  " 

On  went  everybody  :  a  long  way  ahead  the 
two  dignitaries  ;  next,  straggling,  the  farmers  ; 
and,  scattered  along  the  road,  but  doing  their 
utmost,  all  sorts  of  people,  shouting,  laughing, 
tearing  on. 


308 


Far  on  ahead,  the  pastor  crossed  the  ferry- 
track  with  the  justice  after  him. 

"  Doem'nie  beat !  "  said  Tom,  "  Doem'nie 
beat ! "  when  the  pastor  crossed  the  line  as 
straight  as  if  he  meant  it,  followed  by  the 
justice,  and  both  reined  up  and  turned  back. 
Tom  flung  his  hat  first,  and  then  himself,  on 
the  ground.  "  Dat  's  what  comes  o'  habin'  a 
hoss  trained,  an'  all  ready!  What  I  tell  Baas 
Sickels  toder  day  'bout  dis  race  ?  " 

The  two  dignified  racers  rode  back,  hatless, 
hot,  breathless,  with  neckerchiefs  awry  and  laces 
crumpled,  but  smiling,  while  everybody  was  try 
ing  to  hold  in  his  laughter. 

Some  boys  had,  when  the  trampling  rush  went 
by,  come  out  on  the  wall  of  shrubbery  that  edged 
the  road  near  the  ferry-track,  as  beads  of  dew  on 
a  pitcher.  These  boys  followed  at  a  distance,  and 
loitered,  as  the  riders  came  back,  and  refitted 
themselves,  and  explained,  and  were  congratu 
lated. 

"  Here  's  a  boy  wants  to  know  if  you  were 
riding  after  the  schoolmaster  !  "  Mr.  Sickels  said, 
after  helping  to  fit  up  again  the  partly  dis- 


309 


mantled  horsemen  ;  "  but  I  tell  him  you  were 
running  a  fair  race,  without  stakes." 

The  justice,  who,  as  we  have  said,  kept  his 
readiness  about  him,  was  struck  by  something 
in  the  boy's  look,  and  by  the  words.  "  Where  is 
the  schoolmaster  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  In  the  school-house,"  the  boy  answered, 
looking  frightened.  The  other  boys  began  to 
whimper.  "  He  's  shut  up  in  the  school-house," 
they  said. 

At  this  the  justice  and  the  mounted  farmers, 
who  had  come  up,  left  the  talk  of  the  race  and 
hurried  across  the  ferry.  The  Dominie  took 
Derrick  Sickels  first  by  the  hand,  and  then  in 
front  of  him  on  his  horse,  and  heard  his  story. 
It  was  this  :  — 

The  schoolmaster,  walking  on  from  Janet 
Sickels's,  that  morning,  with  his  boys,  went  by 
the  constable's,  and  nodded  graciously  to  that 
man  of  little  tallness  but  strong  soul.  The  con 
stable  sat  solemn,  with  his  hat  drawn  down  low 
over  one  eye,  and  was  trying  to  keep  his  staff 
upright  beside  him  ;  for,  somehow,  do  what  he 
would,  its  gilded  crown  was  ever  toppling  over. 


310 


Through  the  window  his  wife  was  seen  moody 
and  glum ;  while  he,  from  time  to  time,  sipped 
from  a  flask. 

The  schoolmaster  walked  on  proudly ;  wish 
ing  that  "  Madam  Van  Schaats  might  come  by 
the  school,"  for  Derrick's  voice  and  other  voices 
assured  him  that  the  scholars  would  all  come 
cheerfully,  because  they  knew  that  he  wanted 
to  keep  the  school  on  the  feestdage,  and  (as  they 
said,  smiling)  he  could  not  do  that  without  the 
boys.  So,  with  a  kind  authority  and  dutiful 
respect,  —  behavior  on  each  side  most  fitting 
and  becoming,  —  they  moved  on,  a  mild  sun 
with  an  orderly  system  of  satellites. 

The  school- house  of  that  day,  among  our  Dutch 
foregoers,  who,  like  all  freemen,  loved  the  teach 
ing  of  youth,  was,  if  not  the  showy  thing  of 
to-day,  a  seemly  building,  well  kept  up.  That 
in  which  Meester  Jacob  Vorhagen  held  his 
sway  stood  in  an  open  plot,  with  a  very  sharp 
gable,  and  a  window  and  door,  turned  toward 
the  grassy  street  or  road  ;  with  two  windows 
on  a  side,  and  a  great  square  stone  chimney 
going  up  outside  of  the  back  gable  and  above 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          311 

its  peak.  As  the  master,  with  his  boys,  drew 
near,  one  of  the  lesser  ones,  prompted  by 
Derrick,  went  up  to  the  teacher,  and  bashfully 
uttered  a  wish  to  let  "  his  Worship  "  in,  if  "  his 
Worship  "  would  please  to  let  him  have  the  key. 

This  again  touched  a  tender  place  in  the  wise 
man's  side. 

"  And  so  mannerly,  too  !  "  he  said,  handing  to 
the  well-spoken  urchin  a  key  as  big  as  ever 
Saint  Peter's  was,  and  which  the  little  fellow, 
after  heaving  it  up,  could  not  turn  in  the  lock, 
till  another  one  or  two  —  chiefly  Derrick  Sickels 
—  came  to  help  him.  The  boys  made  a  lane  to 
the  door,  and  doffed  their  hats. 

The  eyes  of  the  Schoolmeester  Vorhagen, 
which  we  have  ere  now  seen  peering  over  his 
glasses  toward  the  landing,  and  over  the  fence 
at  Janet  and  Satterlee,  may  not  have  been  very 
quick,  but  they  could  not  be  so  slow  as  not  to 
see  very  remarkable  changes  in  the  well-known 
things  about  his  own  school-house.  A  stout 
wooden  bar  across  the  window-shutters  on  the 
street  (for  shutters  in  those  days  always  closed 
the  windows)  drew  the  teacher's  eyes ;  and 


312          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

Derrick  modestly  explained  that  the  town  put 
that  for  safety,  because  of  the  big  Indian,  Koos- 
kanagheras.  He  himself  would  gladly  go  in 
first  to  open  the  shutters,  but  he  did  not  like  to 
go  into  the  dark.  This  gave  a  chance  for  a 
wise  and  profitable  saying,  — 

"  There  is  no  darkness  to  be  feared,  my  son, 
but  darkness  of  the  understanding  ;  but  I  don't 
see  what  the  Indian  would  do  with  the  school- 
house  !  "  And,  saying  this,  the  giver  of  light  (like 
the  other  luminary,  to  which  we  have  likened 
him,  going  into  a  cloud)  went  into  the  dark 
building,  which  closed  instantly  upon  him  with 
a  bang  of  its  heavy  door. 

There  was  among  the  boys  a  general  flinging 
of  hats  at  each  other,  together  with  dancing,  and 
falling  on  the  ground  and  kicking  of  the  heels 
in  the  air.  So  did  the  little  Dutchmen  in 
America,  nearly  a  century  and  a  half  ago,  after 
seeing  their  schoolmaster  locked  in. 

In  a  moment  later,  Derrick  Sickels  had  told  the 
grave  constable  Hagadorn  that  the  big  maraud 
ing  Indian,  Kooskanagheras,  was  safely  locked 
and  barred  within  the  school-house,  and  that 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          313 

doughty  man  had  called,  with  a  thick  voice  and 
very  dull  eyes  and  unsteady  standing,  upon  his 
wife,  in  nothing  less  than  "  King's  name  "  (we 
shall  not  try  to  give  a  tipsy  man's  gibberish),  for 
his  "  donderbus,  loaded  —  primed ;  "  and  the  wife, 
without  a  word,  was  obeying  the  command  of 
her  boozy  lord.  There  was  no  talk,  in  that  day, 
of  "conjugal  parity"  and  things  of  that  sort. 
The  boy  looked  on  with  awe. 

"  There,"  said  the  wife,  putting  the  loaded 
gun  into  his  hands,  "  don't  hurt  yourself,  and  I 
don't  believe  you  '11  hurt  anybody  else  !  " 

The  constable  set  out,  bearing  his  blunderbuss 
under  one  arm  and  his  staff  under  the  other. 
Before  long,  he  had  left  this  latter  weapon  on  the 
road,  with  a  stern  command  to  the  boys  to  bring 
it  after  him.  By  the  time  he  had  got  to  the 
school-house  and  had  set  up  his  staff  "  in  — 
King's  —  Majesty's  name,"  he  could  not,  stupid 
as  he  was,  but  hear  a  good  deal  of  noise  making 
on  the  inside  ;  such  as  a  shaking  of  the  door 
and  a  kicking  against  it. 

"  Stil,  daar  !  "  he  cried,  not  very  plainly,  but 
fiercely  ;  at  the  same  time  clumsily  drawing  aside 


314          MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

from  the  range  of  the  door.  Leaning  against 
the  house  wall,  he  began  again  a  thick  and 
crowded  utterance,  in  which  might  be  heard  and 
understood,  "  break  —  King's  —  Majesty's  jail 

—  shoot  —  dead  !  —  tell "  (here  he  sat  down  and 
pondered  for  a  while)  —  "  tell  —  worshipful  jus' 

—  everybody  —  injuns  !  —  soldiers  !  "   (this   last 
word  implying,  perhaps,  a  need  of  the  garrison 
of  Fort  York). 

"  Constable  Hagadorn,  how  can  you  let  them 
make  such  a  fool  of  you  ?  "  cried  a  voice  from 
one  within,  who  had  found  out  what  it  was  to 
be  made  a  greater  fool  of.  "  I  'm  de  Heer  School- 
meester  —  de  Heer  Vorhagen." 

The  words  came  slowly  from  the  constable  in 
answer,  but  they  were  pretty  strong  words  when 
they  had  got  out.  First  a  thunderous  mutter 
ing,  and  then,  —  "  Savage  —  impudence  !  "  then, 
what  could  be  made  in  honest  Dutch,  "  powder 
in  the  pan  !  powder  is  in  the  pan !  " 

"  Don't  kill  him,  Mr.  Constable  ! "  the  boys 
said  in  loud  voices  ;  and  a  corresponding  silence 
fell  upon  the  school-house. 

*  De  kruid  is  op  de  pan !  mijn  wilde  [savage]  vriend ! 


MASTER  VOKHAGEN'S  WIFE.          815 

The  constable,  to  the  wonder  and  affright  of 
his  young  allies,  performed  a  good  many  strange 
evolutions,  before  settling  down  into  the  normal 
sleep  of  an  old-time  constable  on  his  post.  He 
took  off  his  hat  and  set  it  on  more  fiercely,  and 
hindside  before ;  he  put  his  staff  of  office  to  his 
shoulder,  and  tried  to  snap  a  lock,  as  if  to  see 
if  it  was  loaded ;  he  set  his  bhlnderbuss  sternly 
up  on  its  muzzle,  and  tried  to  stamp  on  it  when 
it  fell  over :  in  short,  he  frightened  the  boys,  — 
some  of  them  into  running  off,  and  the  rest  into 
going  behind  trees  and  fences,  or  looking  round 
the  corners  of  the  school-house. 

Meantime,  broken  sounds  of  merriment  came 
up  from  one  place  and  another  (this  was  Pink 
ster-Monday),  showing  that  the  day  was  going 
on,  and  drawing  toward  the  jollity  of  the  after 
noon.  In  the  neighborhood  of  the  school-house, 
the  only  grown-up  person  to  be  seen,  beside  the 
constable  guarding  his  prisoner,  was  the  consta 
ble's  wife,  who,  smoking  a  calm  pipe,  with  her 
elbows  on  the  fence-rail,  was  looking  from  afar 
on  her  husband's  antics  in  silent  scorn.  The 
constable  stumbled  round  the  sides  of  the  barri- 


316          MASTER  VOKHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

caded  house,  fumbling  as  well  as  he  could  at  the 
wooden  bars  outside  the  shutters.  All  was  still 
within  the  fortress. 

He  had  not  yet  ended  his  clumsy  round, 
when  there  came  a  most  unlooked-for  change 
heralded  by  a  shout  of  such  of  the  boys  as  still 
hovered  about,  who  now  all  flocked  -together  in 
the  street.  Constable  Hagadorn  stopped  his 
round  of  inspection,  and,  after  stupidly  looking 
in  all  directions  but  the  right  one,  at  length  saw 
what  the  boys  saw,  —  a  sorry,  soiled,  and  drag 
gled  being,  whose  grimy  face  rose  above  the 
chimney-top  like  the  sun  in  an  eclipse,  and  was 
still  going  higher. 

The  boys  tried  to  run  behind  the  constable, 
but  were  too  many  to  be  hid  by  any  such  shel 
ter  ;  and,  for  the  man  himself,  one  look  at  this 
strange  and  fearful  sight  was  enough.  He  reeled 
to  the  doorway;  took  up  first  his  staff;  then, 
flinging  that  to  the  ground,  seized  his  gun,  and, 
taking  stand  (by  no  means  a  steady  one),  brought 
the  weapon  to  his  shoulder.  Though  drunk,  he 
could  do  that. 

"  Hagadorn,  beware  !  "  cried  a  voice  from  the 
sorry  face.  "  Good  friend  !  "  — 


MASTER   VORHAGEX'S   WIFE.  317 

Bang !  went  the  blunderbuss  ;  and,  with  a  cry 
of  "  Murder !  "  the  face  and  figure  disappeared. 
A  small  stone  from  the  chimney-coping,  thrown 
off  at  the  same  time,  rattled  to  the  ground. 
"  Dead  !  "  said  Hagadorn,  solemnly. 

The  boys,  as  will  be  believed,  ran  off,  with 
faces  pale  with  fright ;  the  constable,  dropping 
the  weapon  which  had  now  done  its  duty,  went 
and  sat  down  and  pondered,  as  before."  His  wife, 
drawn  by  the  noise,  with  a  very  moderate  speed, 
as  fearing  nothing,  came,  and  with  pipe  in  hand 
surveyed  the  scene.  The  gun  lay  where  it  fell ; 
its  owner  was  sinking  into  a  drunken  sleep  ;  no 
boys  or  other  living  beings  were  to  be  seen. 
Without  troubling  herself  about  the  beleaguered 
school-house,  which  was  standing  in  utter  still 
ness  in  the  sunshine  of  the  bright  day,  she  gath 
ered  up  the  gun,  and,  tucking  it  under  her  arm, 
went  home  again.  If  the  house  was  a  great 
tomb  over  the  murdered  body  of  its  master,  she 
plainly  had  no  thought  of  it.  Now,  we  have 
come  to  the  point  at  which  the  justice  and  the 
rest  are  at  hand. 

Boy  after  boy  might  have  gone  through  Van- 


318 


dewater  Street,  without  being  remarked,  more 
than  flitting  birds ;  but  when  it  came  to  the  rid 
ing  of  Hendrick  Beekman,  Esquire,  one  of  his 
Majesty's  justices  of  the  peace  in  and  for  the 
county,  attended  by  several  substantial  citizens, 
this  was  another  thing.  Whatever  of  men  and 
women  were  in  the  street  came  forth  and  fol 
lowed  to  the  school-house ;  among  them  Mistress 
Wessell  Hagadorn. 

At  the  school-house,  they  all  stopped  ;  and  an 
examination  of  the  premises  was  at  once  begun. 
The  key  was  not  in  the  door.  The  bars,  screwed 
on  over  the  shutters,  were  looked  at  and  com 
mented  upon  with  a  great  deal  of  wonder  and 
not  a  little  wisdom.  Master  William  Satterlee 
examined  with  the  rest,  and  said  nothing :  he 
nodded  his  head  to  a  pair  of  boy's  eyes  peeping 
through  the  fence  across  the  road,  and  the  eyes 
immediately  went  out  of  sight.  Without  loss  of 
time,  Satterlee  began  to  take  off  a  bar. 

The  justice,  after  shaking  his  head  over  poor 
Wessell  Hagadorn,  and  calling  him  by  title  and 
name  without  answer,  and  stirring  him  with  his 
constable's  staff  without  waking  him,  called  for 


MASTER  VORHAGEN'S  WIFE.          319 

"  a  few  pails  of  water."  Boys,  who  had  been 
scarce  before,  now  swarmed  like  flies  ;  and  as 
many  buckets  of  water  as  the  neighborhood 
would  furnish  came,  as  if  they  were  coming  to 
an  old-time  fire. 

The  constable,  by  the  order  of  the  justice, 
was  laid  down  on  his  back,  like  a  log.  His  wife 
never  tried  to  hinder ;  but,  like  a  thrifty  woman, 
whipped  off  his  doublet  and  shoes.  The  school- 
house-key  fell  out  of  a  pocket. 

"  Water  him  well !  "  said  the  justice  ;  "  but 
let  some  man  see  that  it  be  done  wisely,  not  to 
harm  him.  I  don't  believe  that  drink  paid  the 
king's  excise." 

Before  the  words  were  spoken,  the  honest 
water  splashed  (hissing,  it  seemed,  almost)  from 
Hagadorn's  fiery  face  ;  and  so  another  and  an 
other  bucketful. 

The  justice,  taking  the  key,  went  in;  while 
the  wife  thoughtfully  assured  him  that  the  gun 
had  been  loaded  without  ball. 

The  boys  were  busy  with  their  cheerful  work, 
and  life  had  begun  to  stir  the  constable's  stu 
pid  lids  and  lubberly  legs  and  arms,  when  sud- 


320          MASTER  VOKHAGEN'S  WIFE. 

denly  an  industrious  boy  —  namely,  Derrick 
Sickels  —  found  himself  heaved  up  into  the 
air,  and  thrust  headforemost,  spluttering,  into 
a  full  bucket  of  water.  A  roar  and  shouts  of 
laughter  followed. 

Like  a  ghost,  the  Master  Vorhagen,  with 
sooty  face  and  shaggy  hair  and  eyes,  glaring 
through  a  face  as  dark  as  any  Indian's  (even 
Kooskanagheras's),  had  come  out  through  the 
opened  window,  and  put  his  whole  strength  into 
this  deed  of  retribution. 

The  justice  sought  for  information. 

"  Ask  those  thankless  boys  !  "  said  their  ag 
grieved  teacher,  and  strode  away. 

All  the  people  from  the  other  side  were  gath 
ering  fast  (for  news  goes  like  the  wind)  ;  and 
a  crowd  met  the  found  man,  face  to  face.  At 
first,  they  stared ;  then,  seeing  how  it  was,  be 
gan  to  laugh. 

"  Shall  I  walk  with  you  home  ?  "  said  Satterlee. 
"  Make  way  !  make  way,  friends,  will  you  ?  " 

"  No  !  You'd  best  walk  home  with  Janet  Sick- 
els  !  "  the  schoolmaster  hurled  back  to  him. 

Janet   had   come,  among   the   rest,  and  was 


MASTER  VOKHAGEN'S  WIFE.          321 

turning  kindly  to  him,  when  this  speech  sent 
her  away,  with  a  deep  blush. 

"  I  know  what  '11  make  him  feel  better,"  said 
Peter  Sickels,  following  the  schoolmaster  qui 
etly,  a  little  way  behind,  until  they  were  out  of 
sight. 

The  neighbors,  many  of  them,  were  still  stand 
ing  (as  neighbors  stand  and  talk)  about  the 
school-house.  The  constable  had  got  home,  hav 
ing  scornfully  cast  off  any  help  from  his  wife, 
when  the  ferryman  came  back  and  joined  his 
cousin  Janet  in  her  yard  (she  was  in  some  way 
busy  with  her  flowers)  ;  and  the  justice  and  the 
Dominie,  lifting  the  latch  of  the  gate,  came  in  to 
them,  having  tied  their  now-famous  horses. 

"Nothing  secret  from  you,  gentlemen,"  the 
ferry-master  said.  "  Our  friend  Vorhagen  has 
got  a  loan  of  his  five  English  pounds ;  and  he 
says  he  will  surely  go  off  to  his  brother." 

The  gentlemen  looked  at  one  another,  and 
waited  to  know  more. 

"  I  told  him  the  person  I  was  acting  for  didn't 
want  papers  "  — 

"Ha!"  said  the  justice. 
14* 


822  MASTER   VORHAGEN  S   WIFE. 

"  Ho,  ho  !  "  said  the  pastor. 

"  But  I  was  witness,  and  his  mother  was  wit 
ness,  to  the  loan  "  — 

"  Oh,  he  might  have  it- for  a  gift,"  said  Janet. 

"  So,  if  he  came  back  to  this  place  —  '  Small 
recompense  for  blighted  affections,'  he  began  to 
say"- 

"  Oh,  dear,  if  it  's  come  to  that ! "  said 
Dominie  Van  Schaats,  laughing.  "  Good  day, 
Miss  Janet !  Good  day,  neighbor !  We  must 
account  for  ourselves  to  our  friend  Wygandt ; 
and  I  shan't  wonder  if  that  young  man,  Satter- 
lee,  wins  a  better  prize  than  any  he's  got  yet, 
from  Janet's  hand." 

So  saying,  with  the  justice,  who  bowed  him 
self  away  at  the  same  time,  he  rode  off,  leaving 
Janet  Sickels  with  a  lovelier  flush  than  any 
among  her  flowers. 


FAREWELL,  DEAR  READER! 


PUBLISHERS'   ADVERTISEMENT. 


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TOPHELES. 

AFTERGLOW. 

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231920 


507n-7,'16 


Lowell,  R.TJS.      4l308|5  L916 

A  story  or  two   from  an  old 
Dutch  town 


413085 


.BRARY 


